


The Last Charmed One

by Setari



Series: Gramarye [1]
Category: Charmed (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Assassination, Blood Magic, Dubious Morality, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guerrilla Warfare, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Powers, Revenge, Revolutionary War, Season 3 Finale, Underworld, What if the Bad Guys won?, Worldbuilding, that all makes it sound darker than it felt when I was writing it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-02-08 22:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 115,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12874467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setari/pseuds/Setari
Summary: At the end of Season 3, the Source wins. Leo remains trapped in the Underworld, Prue and Piper die at the hands of Shax, and Phoebe and Cole become the Underworld's new Most Wanted. Turning her grief to rage, Phoebe sets out on a quest to kill the Source of All Evil, no matter what it takes. With only a half-demon and a failing whitelighter for allies, and the entire Underworld set against her, her chances are slim. But Phoebe is determined, and willing to wring any advantage she can find or make out of the poor hand she's been dealt.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the first part in a massive AU series I dreamed up when getting very frustrated with the cheap way Season 4 tried to 'fix' the end of Season 3 and shoehorn Paige in to keep the show going (not that I don't love Paige, but her introduction storyline was painful). It started as a 'what if Season 4 had actually jumped ahead to being about the Next Generation?', but then I got caught up filling in the backstory of exactly how that next generation came into being, and I fell into a pit of trying to fix the show's annoyingly black-and-white moral structure.
> 
> I have another seven installments after this planned in varying amounts of detail, and vague plans for a handful more but I have no idea if or when I'll write them. I'd like to, I'd really like to, but this one only got written because I made it my NaNo project, and even after churning out 100K in a month, I still have two more chapters to write. Which means that on top of everything else, this fic is basically unedited, but I'm a bit too sick of it right now to go back and fix all my typos and plotholes.

The Underworld was never anything less than dank and gloomy. In all honesty, Phoebe would likely have resented it even if it had been brightly lit and colourful, but she wasn’t in much of a mood to be charitable or honest. Not when she was trapped there, with no possible hope of getting to her sisters, who were almost certainly dead already anyway.

She couldn’t know that, she wanted to _hope_ that some how, some way, they’d survived, but the environment didn’t exactly lend itself to positive thinking. Neither did the fact that she’d been outmanoeuvred. She’d convinced Cole to make that deal with the Source, to wind back time in the hopes of giving her sisters a chance to survive, and she hadn’t even thought what they were going to do when the Source _inevitably_ tried to stop them from helping her sisters.

Leo had tried to orb out, to go to the aid of his wife, and bounced back off some magical shield. Cole’s shimmer had likewise been stopped, and so had Phoebe’s spells. She’d tried transport spells, message spells, summoning spells, spells of her own invention. They’d all failed.

And then, of course, the Source had come. Cole’s caves had been protected, but not against him. No demon could fully guard against the Source, only light magic could manage that, he’d explained when Phoebe had barely been listening. She’d been useless with fear, and Leo had been out of his mind with panic, and Cole had taken an energy ball to the side to buy himself enough time to grab them both and shimmer to another part of the Underworld.

“Phoebe?”

Phoebe looked up at the sound of her name, and saw Cole, pale with pain but standing straight and tall as he looked down at her. Somewhere, in a distant corner of her mind, Phoebe thought she might feel an impulse to match him, to stand tall and raise her chin even though it was all a lie, but… it was a very far away thought, and even if she entertained the idea, her limbs just wouldn’t respond. She looked away again, and heard Cole sigh.

There was movement in her peripheral vision; Cole had crouched down beside her, elbows braced on his knees, fingers laced together between them and thumbs tapping against each other. A nervous tic she only saw when he was trying to work out how to say something he knew she didn’t want to hear. “You’re still hurt,” Phoebe said, instead of giving him a chance to speak first and dictate the topic of conversation, “you should be resting.”

Cole quirked an eyebrow at her, unimpressed. “Leo healed my human half, I’m fine.”

“Your human _half._ ” Phoebe shot back, and it felt so good to direct her frustration at something she could actually do something about. “Sit down before you fall down, Cole.”

Now Cole’s other eyebrow jumped to join it’s twin half way up his forehead. Then he sighed again and closed his eyes, expression contorting with pain that Phoebe was pretty sure wasn’t coming from the wound on his side. “I’ll sit down if you stand up.” He offered.

Phoebe stared at him, wondering what the hell that was supposed to accomplish. “Are you… Is that a bribe, or a threat? I can’t actually tell.” She snapped, knowing that whichever it was, she was offended either way. “And what good would me standing around do, anyway? I’ve done enough of that lately, thank you, so what does it matter if I do fuck all sitting down or standing up, it’s not going to save-” Phoebe cut herself off before her voice failed her and she burst into tears.

“No, but it might save you.” Cole pressed on relentlessly.

“So _what_?!” Phoebe burst out, and immediately regretted it, when Cole flinched. “I-” She began, then stopped in surprise when Cole held up a hand for silence. He was glaring at her.

“Do not.” He began, hard and unyielding. “Apologise for saying that unless you _mean it_.”

Phoebe gaped at him. Cole didn’t relent or change his mind or add a caveat. He just watched her, with eyes that looked like there was more Belthazor behind them than Cole Turner. Slowly, she turned the idea over in her mind, and realised that, in all honesty, she wasn’t sorry. She was sorry she’d hurt him, but she didn’t want to take it back. She didn’t mean the words any less, even knowing that Cole would be devastated if she’d died along with her sisters.

“Okay.” Phoebe whispered to her knees.

To her complete surprise, Cole smiled. It wasn’t a very nice smile, but there was something oddly welcoming in it. Like he was inviting her to share in a mean joke. “Thank you.”

That startled a laugh out of her. It wasn’t a very healthy laugh, and it soon dissolved into great heaving sobs that _hurt_ every time she tried to get enough breath for the next one. Warm arms wrapped around her, and she was pulled against a solid, familiar chest. That hurt, too, because as much as she loved Cole, what she really wanted right now was her sisters.

Phoebe wasn’t sure how long she sat there crying, but it felt like a very long time. She wasn’t even finished, still feeling so desperately hollowed out and alone, when Leo strode up to them, jaw set and eyes hollow. “Someone’s coming.” He said shortly.

Cole nodded, his chin bumping against the top of her head, then reached out and caught hold of Leo’s shin. The whole world went wobbly and hazy, and when it came back into focus, Phoebe found herself sitting in a different dark and barren cave. She didn’t have the energy to start crying again, but damned if she didn’t want to. She let her head fall onto Cole’s shoulder, not caring whether he wanted to move or not. If he did, she’d probably just fall over right there on the cave floor.

There was an echo of Grams in the back of her head, chiding her for being so pathetic, but all it did was remind Phoebe of another loss. Perhaps not to demons, but still. There was just _so much death_ in their family, and it wasn’t going to stop. Phoebe was the last Halliwell left, and if it hadn’t been for Cole, she probably would have let the Source kill her, because she didn’t see much point in living anymore.

The first sign of attack came when a fire-ball exploded against the cave wall mere inches from Phoebe’s shoulder. Instinct had her moving, flinging herself into Cole and shoving them both down onto the ground, before her current apathy could muffle the impulse. Cole turned the motion into a roll, tucking her beneath him as he lifted his head with a snarl on his lips and an energy-ball in the hand that wasn’t protecting the back of Phoebe’s head.

He flung the energy-ball, and Phoebe tipped her head back to see it fly at a ranged trio of demons. They all looked rather scruff, with tattered coats and lanky hair and pointed teeth, which Phoebe could see because they were all grinning nastily. The energy-ball glanced off the shoulder of one, and he roared in pain, recoiling from the hit, while his two allies returned fire. Cole rolled them again, but only one of the fire-balls hit the ground where they’d been lying. The other flew at Leo, who threw himself out of the way and behind a nearby rock formation.

“Stay down.” Cole ordered. Phoebe opened her mouth to ask what he was talking about, when he suddenly launched himself up and away and crashed into one of the demons.

“Cole!” Phoebe shouted, twisting halfway up onto her elbows to watch with her heart in her throat as he grappled with the demon, keeping him between Cole and the other two so that they couldn’t fire on him while he was distracted. Panic seized her lungs in an iron grip, and she gasped shallowly for breath over an internal mantra of desperate pleas. She couldn’t lose Cole. Lose Cole, and she really _would_ have nothing and no one to live for.

Cole slammed an energy-ball point blank into the chest of the demon he was fighting with, and then flinched back from the hellfire that sprung up to consume the demon. The other two leapt to attack, flinging fire balls and closing in. Leo appeared from behind some rocks and jumped one of them, driving him to the floor. Phoebe stared, her mind full of static, even though she knew that she was even better equipped to fight than Leo. Leo didn’t _have_ any offensive powers. He was a whitelighter, and they were meant to be back-up, advisors and medics only. It was the witch’s job to vanquish the demons.

But Phoebe didn’t have any offensive powers either. Hysteria crept up on her, trapping an entirely imappropriate laugh in her throat. What was she going to do, premonition the demon to death? Levitate at him? And even if she _could_ , her last attempt to help someone fight a demon got two people _killed_. What if she jumped in to the fight to save Cole, and just got him killed instead? Or if she cast a spell to kill demons, and got Cole caught in the crossfire?

An energy-ball caught the other demon in the face, and he went up in hellfire like his friend. Leo scrambled off the last one as Cole approached. Standing over him, Cole summoned up one last energy-ball and slammed it straight down. The last demon shimmered out before it hit, and the energy-ball left scorch-marks all over the stone. “ _Damn it._ ” Cole swore viciously. He looked up, then around with an urgency that faded into relief and no small amount of confusion once he spotted Phoebe. “I didn’t actually expect you to _listen_ to me.” He remarked, striding over and offering her a hand up with a strained attempt at a smile.

Phoebe tried to answer, and just couldn’t find the words. Instead, she just took his hand and let him haul her up. Once she was on her feet, she flung her arms around him and clung. “We need to go. Quickly.” Cole said, and it took Phoebe a moment to realise he wasn’t talking to her. After a moment, in which she assumed Leo had joined them, Cole shimmered out. They landed in yet another cave, and then Cole said, “Orb us somewhere.”

“What? Why?” Leo asked, and Phoebe was startled at how hoarse and rough his voice sounded.

“ _Because_ those demons must have tracked my shimmer. They might not be able to track your orbs.” Cole informed him. Leo didn’t wait for more of an argument, just orbed out and took them both with him. Another cave materialised around them after the white lights faded. Cole sighed, and some of the tension went out of him.

As the tension left him, it flowed right into Phoebe, and she choked on her next breath. “I couldn’t- I couldn’t do _anything_.” She gasped out. Cole made a startled noise, and his hand smoothed over her hair. Phoebe hid her face in his chest and tried not to cry again. “You were in danger, and I should have _helped_ , but I just _froze up_ , because what if I got _you killed too_?!”

“Hey, hey.” Cole interjected, gentle but insistent. “You haven’t gotten anyone killed.”

Phoebe snorted her way into ugly, bitter laughter. “I’m sorry, did you miss the part where _my plan_ got us _stuck down here_ while Shax _murdered my sisters_?!” She demanded. Leo made an agonised sound, like he’d just been stabbed, and Phoebe realised what she’d just said. It hit her with all the force of a runaway train, and she made her own choked off sobbing sound, muffled in the folds of Cole’s clothes. “I should have-”

“What? Not tried to save them?” Cole interrupted, sounding frustrated. “Phoebe…”

Phoebe pulled away from him, not wanting to hear whatever he was going to say in that too-earnest tone. She didn’t want platitudes and empty reassurances. She wanted- she wanted to rewind time and save her sisters, which was kind of hilarious, in an entirely not funny way, given that was the plan that had gotten them killed in the first place.

The air between them shivered, and Phoebe was moving before she could think. She shifted her weight back and threw herself into a roundhouse kick that caught the demon before he’d quite finished materialising. He staggered sideways, and caught an athame with his chest that had been meant for Cole. Said half-demon turned with a dramatic gesture that would have looked kind of amusing, if the sweeping spread of his arms hadn’t trailed energy-balls that blasted into the small _army_ of demons advancing on them.

Phoebe really wished she had time to panic, but before the sight had really registered, there was already a fire-blast heading straight for her. She ducked into a roll, and came up between two demons that lashed out at her with talons that would have been more at home on an eagle. Phoebe blocked the first swipe, ducked the second, and drove an elbow into someone’s solar plexus. She swept the other demon’s feet out from under them to keep them out of the way, and then turned on the one she’d winded.

She punched them – her, she was pretty sure – square between the eyes and she reeled back hands flying up to protect her face from further abuse. Something behind Phoebe hissed, so she whirled, and saw some vaguely humanoid reptile lurching towards her far too fast to be natural. She ducked low under outstretched claws, got her shoulder into the creature’s gut, and flipped it over her head. There was a thump behind her, then a scrape of claws on rock that grated against her ears, and she turned to see the lizard thing already back on its feet and running for her again.

“Phoebe, duck!” Cole shouted, and Phoebe obeyed. A sword whistled through the air just above her head, and Phoebe kicked out behind her at where she guessed the person’s knee would be. She connected, and there was a shout, and then she had to dive out of the way before the lizard creature caught her with its claws. She twisted and dove right back in again, catching the demon – if it was a demon, maybe it was a warlock, or some other kind of evil – with the sword with a hard uppercut to the chin, and then another kick to the knee that knocked him off his feet.

She stomped on the hand that held the sword, and he dropped it with a howl. She grabbed the weapon up, unnerved by how hot the handle was to touch, but whipped around with just enough time to brace herself before the lizard creature impaled itself on the blade with the force of its momentum. It let out a horrifying shriek, gurgled up purple blood, and attempted to claw her one last time before going limp, which dragged the sword out of her hands as it collapsed.

For half a second, Phoebe just stood and breathed, trying to process what had just happened, what she felt about it, how to think clearly again. Then something very solid slammed into her, and she went down with a startled shout. She and her assailant hit the ground hard with a grunt of pain, and despite the bruises she was sure would be forming, Phoebe did her best to get an elbow or a knee into whoever had just tackled her. They wrestled across the floor of the cave for several confusing moments, and then Phoebe found herself pinned by a dark skinned woman with needle-fine teeth and eyes that were black from lid to lid. “Stop _squirming_ , witch.” The demon snarled, struggling to keep hold of Phoebe’s wrists. “The Source wants the pleasure of killing you himself, but he’ll accept your head if it’s the only part of you I retrieve.”

Something in Phoebe went deadly cold at that. She echoed it on the outside by going perfectly still, which made the demon crow in triumph. Phoebe barely heard it. All she could hear was a strange, distant whistling. _The Source_ wanted to kill her himself, did he? Distantly, she thought she ought to be afraid. After all, that evil bastard had already killed two out of three, and Phoebe was the youngest. The weakest. She wouldn’t stand a chance.

Did it matter, if she didn’t? She might die, but did she care? Her body was still running on desperate, cell-deep survival instincts, but she didn’t think it would bother her too much if she died. And wouldn’t it be better to die in a blaze of glory, doing everything she could to kill the evil son of a bitch instead of lying down to die because she was just too sad to save herself?

She could hear Grams again, but this time, she sounded smug, almost proud, instead of chiding. _That’s the spirit, girl. Give ‘em hell._ Phoebe twisted suddenly, taking the demon entirely off guard and goetting a knee up into her gut. She wheezed, and let go of Phoebe’s wrists. She immediately brought her hands up, a memory so clear she might have called it a premonition flashing through her mind; one of Belthazor doing this to one of the bounty hunters that had come after him for killing the Triad. She put her hands exactly where he’d put his, bared her teeth just the way he had, and wrenched the demon’s head sideways with as much force as she could. Belthazor was stronger than her, but just like then, there was a sickening _crack_ , and the demon went limp.

Phoebe kicked the corpse off her just before the hellfire leapt up to consume it, and rocked back onto her shoulders to flip back up onto her feet, hands up and _finally_ feeling present in the fight. She had trained herself to fight because she didn’t have any active powers, and if she couldn’t explode the demons, or move their own fire-balls back into their faces, then she would use her bare hands to kill them. Those were weapons she could use.

Another demon came at her, and she ducked their wild charge, caught their arm, and used their momentum to swing them around until they slammed face-first into the cave wall. There was a crunch, and they collapsed, wailing. Phoebe dropped to snap their neck, too, and then she was up again, looking for her next opponent. An athame flew through the air, and although she whipped her head to the side to avoid it, it still sliced open her cheek. Blood trickled, hot and wet, down her cheek, but she ignored it in favour of finding the demon that had thrown the weapon.

Before she could, a familiar voice shouting in pain caught her attention, and her head snapped up, searching out where the sound had come from. There, across the cave, Leo had been backed up against the wall by a great brute of a demon, all bulging muscles and coiled horns protruding from his forehead. Leo was bent double, one arm wrapped protectively around his stomach, looking up at the demon with an expression of resigned acceptance. Phoebe wanted to go over and help, but there were at least half a dozen demons between them and she wouldn’t get through them all before Leo was really badly hurt.

She was pretty sure the thing couldn’t actually kill him, he was a whitelighter, after all, but he was their healer, and they’d all be in trouble if he went down. Not to mention, with him cut off from Up There, Phoebe wasn’t sure if that immortality would last, and she didn’t want to take the risk. A flash of light in the corner of her eye had her ducking, and a dart of fire zipped over her head. Another demon lunged in from her other side, and she spun out of the way as fast as she could. Not fast enough, because they still rammed into her side hard enough to make her stagger, but their momentum took them further than they intended since they hadn’t crashed into her and there was a metallic clang as they tripped over something lying in a puddle of black goo that was slowly seeping into the floor.

Phoebe looked down, and saw the sword that she’d used to kill the lizard monster.

Inspiration lit her up from the inside, and she dove after the stumbling demon, giving them a swift knee to the kidneys to keep them down while she plunged her hand into dead lizard-demon muck – ew – and pulled the sword free. She rose up, sword in hand, and located Leo again. The demon had him by the neck now, hoisted off the floor and turning red over the massive fist clenched around his throat.

Phoebe took a moment to pray – although what powers she thought might hold sway down here that would ever look favourably on her, she didn’t know – aimed, and threw. The sword spun through the air, and hit the demon hilt-first in the back of the head. Which at least made it drop Leo, but it wasn’t exactly the effect she’d been aiming for.

It turned and glared at her with eyes like molten lava, and Phoebe recoiled despite herself. A snarl rippled across its lips and it took one menacing step towards her. Then a sword tip sprouted from its chest, and it jolted, seized, and burst into flame. As it dissolved into ash, it revealed Leo, face twisted into a vicious sneer, sword in hand. The hatred on his face softened as he met Phoebe’s gaze, and he saluted her with the sword, before turning and swinging it at another demon.

Well. He would probably make better use of it, Phoebe decided. After all, being a healer, he might flinch at killing things with his bare hands, but Phoebe, on thinking back to the feel of a demon’s neck snapping under her fingers, mostly only felt satisfied.

Searing pain knocked her out of her thoughts, and she cried out in pain, hand coming up automatically to cover the new wound on her shoulder. There was a burn the size of a fist seared into the meat of her shoulder. She looked around, searching for the culprit, but there were still too many demons. Less than before, and that thought made her feel pretty damn proud, but still over a dozen, and at least four were glaring, growling, or snarling in her direction. Another three were trying to box Leo in again, although they were having less success now that he was armed, while the remaining five were trading fire and energy blasts with a very pale and strained looking Cole.

Fury stole over Phoebe and sharpened her every sense. Her mind raced, and impatience turned to intent as she hastily scrambled for a spell that might work. “ _Before me stands a mindless hoard,_ ” She began, and immediately two of the demons howled and flung fire-balls at her. She dodged, but didn’t let her cobbled-together spell falter. “ _A dozen beasts of darkness pure,_ ” Another attack, which drove Phoebe back far enough that she hit a wall. “ _Let hellfire be their last reward,_ ” More fire blazed towards her, and Phoebe ducked, hunkering down as she shouted the last line with no small amount of desperation. “ _While those with souls my wrath endure._ ”

Simultaneously, twelve vanquishing fires erupted across the cave. Phoebe uncurled enough to watch her handiwork, and then she scrambled upright to check that her caveats had worked and Cole had survived. He met her gaze across the inferno of the demon’s death throes, and smiled, helplessly proud. Phoebe sighed in relief, and, as the fires died, pushed away from the wall to run at him and hug him tight. “That was a good spell.” He complimented, then pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “Glad you decided to stand up and fight.”

Phoebe nodded, then released him to look around and check on Leo. He was standing there with the sword still held loosely in his grasp, looking around as if he had no idea what to do with himself now that there was nothing to fight. Phoebe could relate to that, but now she knew where to find more demons to vent her fury against. “Leo?” She called.

He looked up, blinked slowly at her, and then seemed to jolt back to life. He dropped the sword and hurried over, hands lighting up white and reaching for Phoebe. She remembered that she’d gotten hit, and turned to give him easier access to her shoulder. “Thank you, but that wasn’t what I was going to ask.” She pointed out, trying for amused and falling somewhat short.

“Oh?” Leo asked, without any curiosity. As if he knew he was supposed to care, but just didn’t.

“I was going to ask where you learned to use a sword, actually.” Phoebe remarked.

Leo lifted his gaze from her wound, which was already almost entirely healed, to stare at her incredulously. Then he shrugged, indifferent. “You pick these things up.” He evaded. Cole looked between the two of them, then stepped away to retrieve the sword. Leo dropped his hands, letting the healing light fade, and Phoebe rolled her shoulder. Good as new.

“However you learned, if you can use it, it’ll probably be useful. I doubt that’s going to be the last bunch of bounty hunters we see.” He pointed out, holding it out hilt-first to Leo as he approached. Leo looked like he might refuse to take it, but in the end, just shrugged again and took it.

“Not just bounty hunters.” Phoebe declared, and that got both of their attention. She looked to Cole, who raised his eyebrows in question. Phoebe was pretty sure her smile wasn’t very nice at all, but it fit just right with her mood. “You were right, Cole. At least partially.”

“About what?” Cole asked, frowning now.

“Even if I _helped_ get my sisters killed-” Leo flinched, but Phoebe ploughed on. It didn’t hurt that much anymore, it just made the well of rage in her run deeper, and she was already unsure how far down it went. “-I wasn’t the only one. The Source did this to us. To them. And I’m going to _kill him_ for it. I’m going to start with his bounty hunters, and I’m going to work my way up until I can put my hands around his neck and break it.”

Leo and Cole stared at her. Phoebe stared right back at Cole, daring him to object. In the end though, he just smiled. “Spite is as good a reason as any to keep moving.” He acknowledged. “And I could do with a little cathartic vengeance myself. How about you, Leo?”

“I don’t think…” Leo began, and then faltered, expression crumpling into something that was trying to be a smile, but only ended up looking miserable. “I don’t think I’m supposed to.” He finished in a voice that wobbled and wavered. Then he cleared his throat. “But… but Pi-Piper… if it was her… that’s- that’s what she’d do.”

Well, _that_ hurt. Phoebe breathed deeply through the ache in her chest, and forced herself to focus on the goal. They were going to kill the one who did this to them, and _then_ she could worry about how much it hurt. If she wasn’t dead. “Does that mean you’re with us?” Phoebe asked, because she wanted the clarification.

“Yeah.” Leo agreed, looking down at the sword in his hand. His expression went blank, no more painful smile, no more agony, just a sort of mild indifference. “It can’t exactly make me feel worse.”

Cole snorted, and clapped Leo on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit.” He encouraged, so dry it was almost mocking. Then he tipped his head towards one of the dark tunnels branching off from their cavern. “Let’s get moving. It’ll be better to start a fight on our own terms, and not because we were snuck up on again, so we ought to clear out of here before their friends come looking for them.”

It took Phoebe several seconds to catch up, and then she groaned. “They tracked the shimmer, and they tracked the orbs, which means we have to _walk_.” Cole looked unrepentant, so Phoebe just started walking, putting one foot in front of the other. Cole fell into step beside her, and she could hear Leo’s footsteps behind them. When Phoebe’s thought started to take a turn towards everything she’d lost, she forced herself instead to mull over exactly what she was going to do to the Source once she found him, and discovered that while it didn’t exactly lift her mood, it certainly kept her going.


	2. Chapter 2

It was only after they had walked and slept, and Phoebe had woken with a feeling like she’d slept for far too long, that it occurred to her they must have been in the Underworld for days already. Cole was still sleeping, so it was Leo Phoebe settled beside to ask about it. She considered asking about the sword laid across his lap first, handle grasped loosely in his fist as if he hadn’t let go of it all night, but she decided not to in the end. It was fairly obvious why he was sitting like that, with a good line of sight to both the entrances to their chosen cave, back propped up on an uncomfortable spur of rock.

“I don’t know how long we’ve been down here.” Phoebe began, drawing idle patterns in the rock-dust carpeting this cave.

“A day and a half.” Leo informed her hollowly. “Or there about. Time is a little inconsistent between here and the mortal world, but it’s mostly parallel.” For a moment, his knuckles turned white as he clenched his hand around the hilt of his sword, but then he relaxed again, and huffed out a soft sigh, closing his eyes just long enough to regain some composure. Or apathy. Phoebe couldn’t tell.

“Do I need to worry about food?” Phoebe asked him, doodling an apple in the dust. “I’m not hungry, but I don’t know if that’s just the grief talking.” She said it coldly, clinically, because if she didn’t, she might not have been able to get the words out.

“No.” Leo assured her. “The Underworld… and Up There-” He pointed vaguely towards the ceiling with his free hand, but he wasn’t putting much effort into the gesture. “-aren’t… _physical_ spaces. You can put physical things in them, but they’re not like the mortal world. They’re built with magic, and they’re made up of echoes and reflections of the mortal world. Your physical form is sustained by the magic of your environment, which is absorbed by the magic in you, your soul.”

Phoebe nodded. She thought she ought to be relieved that she wouldn’t have to worry about starving to death, but… it really didn’t affect her one way or the other. It was just a fact to bear in mind as she made plans. “Okay.” Leo didn’t respond to that, but that was okay. Phoebe sat with him and waited for Cole to wake up.

She hated it. The stillness, the silence. It was all too easy to slip back into apathy, and there was something about that hollow unfeeling that was so much worse than rage. Anger felt so _good_ in comparison. She wanted something to fight, but she knew Cole was injured, and he needed his rest if he was going to heal properly. And she couldn’t lose him too, which meant not leaving him behind, and not making him fight on not enough rest.

“Did you recognise any of those demons we fought yesterday?” Phoebe asked Leo when the silence became too much to bear. Going by the tired, disbelieving look Leo levelled at her, he didn’t agree. “The lizard thing? What was that? It died when I stabbed it, but I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

Leo shrugged. “Could have been a manticore.” He said carelessly, before glancing down at the sword. “If it was though, this is more than just metal.” He added, gesturing at the weapon. “Manticores are hard to kill. They’re an upper-level demonic species.”

“Probably is.” Phoebe agreed, eyeing the sword with a bit more interest.

“Almost certainly is.” Cole offered, and Phoebe looked over to see him sitting up, bleary-eyed but alert. “They knew who they were hunting, and there’s little point in bringing a sword to a fight with a whitelighter, a Charmed One, and an upper-level demon unless it’s been damned, or cursed, or imbued with some sort of evil potion.”

“An ordinary sword could kill me.” Phoebe pointed out.

Cole smiled at her, challenging and proud all in one. It drove away a little of the chill in Phoebe’s bones, and she almost managed to smile back. “Even _that_ sword couldn’t kill you.” He pointed out, gesturing. “You stole it off them and killed them with it.”

 _That_ did get a smile out of Phoebe, but it wasn’t a very nice one. “I did, didn’t I?” She asked smugly. “Want to see if I can do it again?”

“What exactly are you thinking of?” Cole asked, leaning forwards to prop his elbows on his knees.

Feeling something that could almost have been anticipation thrumming through her, Phoebe spun herself around so that she could look at both men while she talked. “Well, that’s where I need your help. You were an upper level demon, so you must know something about what the Source is going to do now.” She spread her hands in an exaggerated shrug, inviting his input.

Cole didn’t answer for a moment, thinking carefully about what he knew. “The problem is that this isn’t like a human military. There aren’t protocols or any sort of standard procedure. Demons are, by nature, chaotic.” He smirked faintly. “Even everything the Source has done so far is… not something I would have been able to predict. The bounty hunters? Sure. But sealing the Underworld?” He shook his head. “I didn’t actually know he _could_ do that for this long. And even if I had, I wouldn’t have thought he _would_.”

“Why not? It seems pretty effective to me.” Phoebe asked, glaring upwards, even though she had no idea where this magical block was, exactly, or even if it was anywhere in particular. Up was where she wanted to be and couldn’t get, so that had to be roughly where the barrier was, surely?

Cole shook his head. “If his only goal was killing us? Sure, it keeps us isolated and in a place where he can track us, more or less. But demons are rarely that focused. They _spread evil_ , wherever and whenever they can, and they can’t do that if they’re all stuck down here with us.”

“You have a point.” Phoebe acknowledged. “So… Hey, can you try shimmering up there again? We haven’t actually- Or have you checked since that first…” She trailed off, not wanting to talk about, or even _think_ about, that first attack in Cole’s cavern.

Instead of answering, Cole shimmered out. Except, he didn’t, quite. He turned translucent, outline wavering like Phoebe was looking at him through a heat-haze, and then something flashed with ugly black light, and Cole was thrown backwards. He landed flat on his back on the ground, wheezing, and Phoebe scrambled up to dart the few steps between them and skid to her knees beside him. “Cole?”

“Fine.” Cole assured her, waving her off. He rolled onto his side and coughed up a few wisps of smoke. Then he slumped and rested his forehead against Phoebe’s thigh. “Seal is still up.” He told her uselessly.

“Yeah, I kind of figured that much out for myself.” Phoebe replied, amused.

A warm grin unfurled across Cole’s face, half hidden against Phoebe’s jeans. “So the plan is still to kill demons?”

“Yes. One demon in particular. Do you know where he might be?” Phoebe asked.

Cole pushed himself up to sit, eyebrows raised. “Even if I did, which I don’t, _how_ were you planning to kill the _Source of All Evil_?”

“I don’t know. If the demon-killing sword doesn’t work, I could always just bash his head against the rocks until he dies.” Phoebe suggested with a careless shrug. Cole gave her a hard look, to which Phoebe only rolled her eyes and shoved herself up onto her feet. “Well, if we can’t get at the Source yet, then we can at least thin out the ranks. Where do upper level demons like to hang out?”

For a moment, Phoebe thought Cole might refuse to tell her. Then he shrugged and stood beside her, dusting off his hands and offering her a vaguely sarcastic smile. “I can show you a few places. But a lot of them, you can’t shimmer in or out. If we go in, we’ll be trapped there unless we can lure them out. And you don’t have any active powers.” He reminded Phoebe.

“I can kick their asses, and I can come up with a couple of spells, I bet.” Phoebe retorted.

“These are upper level demons, Phoebe.” Cole reminded her. “Do you remember how much trouble you and your sisters had to go through to kill me? And I am _not_ at the top of the food chain, as good as I am. Was.” He corrected as an afterthought.

Phoebe rolled her eyes, hard. “Yes, I remember, but I don’t exactly have the ingredients for a vanquishing potion down here with me, Cole! What am I supposed to do? Sit on my ass and _cry_?” She demanded furiously, almost afraid to let go of her anger in case she slipped back into misery.

“No, but you’re supposed to think these things through before you go charging in recklessly and get _yourself_ killed, too!” Cole snapped. When Phoebe recoiled, he checked himself, and looked away in something like regret. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No, don’t.” Phoebe dismissed, turning away. “Okay. I’ll- I’ll think about how to get upper level demons without a vanquishing potion, but in the meantime, what am I supposed to do? I _can’t_ just sit here, Cole, I _won’t_.” She declared fiercely, looking back at Cole to make sure he understood her.

Cole nodded, smiling again. “I never expected you to. Let’s just start small, okay? There are messenger demons, vassals, weak bottom-feeders that serve upper level demons.”

“What? And bring them coffee?” Phoebe mocked.

Cole snorted, and played along. “And file their paperwork.”

“So where can we get them?” Phoebe asked, and Cole’s smile became a grin that looked alarmingly sharp. He held out a hand to her, and Phoebe took it, anticipation filling up the hollow ache in her chest. In unison, they both looked over at Leo. “Coming?” Phoebe asked hopefully.

“Why not?” Leo sighed, and climbed laboriously to his feet. Sword in one hand, he reached out with the other and took hold of Cole’s shoulder. Cole shimmered out, and when they reappeared, the cave around them had been replaced by a narrow tunnel. The rock was darker, almost black, except for streaks of rusty brown through it in places. The light was dim, the same bland illumination that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, but left deep shadows in nooks and crevices.

“Where are we?” Phoebe whispered.

“They’re sort of like a cross between servants corridors, shortcuts, and sewage tunnels.” Cole offered, voice a low murmur. “It’s where the dregs of the underworld linger, where a lot of the bottom-feeders nest, and where malicious energies from vanquished demons congeal. So watch out for poltergeists.”

“Poltergeists. Aren’t those ghosts?” Phoebe checked.

“No.” Leo interjected. “They’re concentrations of energy and magic given form. You can get different types of poltergeist depending on the type of energy. You can even get healing poltergeists in places where magical healers do a lot of work.”

“We’re not going to find those here, though.” Cole remarked, then hushed them, and pressed himself back against the wall of the tunnel. Phoebe mimicked him, trusting that he’d be better able to sense someone coming than she would.

Sure enough, a moment later, a hunched figure scurried into view carrying a large bundle. They were muttering something vaguely disgruntled under their breath, and weren’t looking where they were going, so Phoebe waited until they were only a few meters away before she moved. One high kick later, and the demon was sprawled against the tunnel wall, bundle spilling open across the floor and revealing a skull that was definitely not human.

Phoebe decided not to worry about it until she was sure the demon was down. They stirred, looking up at her with dazed eyes that abruptly widened with fear when they realised who she was. “Hi.” Phoebe chirped, wiggling her fingers.

“Would you like me to do the honours?” Cole offered, stepping up beside her.

“No, I think I’ve got this.” Phoebe replied, thinking for a moment. The demon lurched as though they were going to try and run, but Phoebe planted a foot in their chest and shoved them back down. “ _Evil standing in my sight, I vanquish you with all my might._ ” Phoebe chanted, and the demon melted with a high pitched wail. She watched it until the last iridescent blobs of goop had dissolved into the ground. “Okay, next?” She asked, turning to Cole.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “There’ll be more coming in a minute. Someone will have heard that.” He nodded towards the patch of rock where the demon had been lying.

“Good.” Phoebe declared, and she turned so that she could see both ends of the tunnel. “So, while we wait, what’s that skull?” She asked.

Cole shrugged. “Bones have power. It’s probably all that’s left of some powerful ancient evil. Some high priest probably wants to use it in a ritual. Maybe to locate you. Maybe to strip your power. Although that usually takes living power.”

“Living power?” Phoebe echoed.

“A human heart is the standard representation.” Cole offered nonchalantly. Phoebe glanced sideways at him. Catching her look, Cole just shrugged. “Could use your blood, but I don’t think they have that. Mandrake root can sometimes be used, but it would have to have been imbued with your power first, and I don’t think you’ve ever gotten a premonition off a mandrake root before.”

“Uh…” Phoebe tried to think back, but even over something that innocuous, the knowledge that she’d never see her sisters ever again, never fight evil with them, or rush to tell them about a surprise premonition, hit her hard, and she stopped thinking about it. “I don’t think so.” She stated coldly. Cole didn’t reply, and Phoebe didn’t look at him to see if she could read his thoughts on his face. Instead she studied the end of the tunnel that didn’t have her looking past him, and waited. Better to focus on killing demons than everything she’d lost. If the demons would just _hurry up_ , everything would be great.

After an interminably long wait, Phoebe saw a shadow move on the tunnel wall right where it bent out of her sight. Wordlessly, she waved a hand at Cole and Leo and pointed. “They’re going to be on guard.” Cole whispered right in her ear. “We won’t be able to take them by surprise like the last one.”

Phoebe nodded, and readied herself, edging closer to the bend in the tunnel as quietly as she could. She’d gotten perhaps half way there when a demon poked their head around the corner, saw her, and withdrew abruptly. Phoebe flung herself forwards and around the corner, already lashing out as she took in the number and position of the demons waiting for her. It was a small group, armed with a mismatched array of athames and one or two clubs. One even appeared to have a slingshot. Some had completely black eyes, others flicked forked tongues in the air, others bared fangs in silent threat, but all of them were hunched and dirty, without any of the presence Phoebe had come to expect from demons with any real power.

She didn’t even need a spell to deal with them. She just grabbed the wrist of one of them when he tried to stab her, kneed him between the legs, then twisted his arm until he dropped the athame. She caught it, flipped it, and stabbed him with it. He went down in flames, and she moved on to the next. The one with the slingshot threw something that exploded in a cloud of foul-smelling gas, and a moment later, he fell to an energy-ball flung by Cole.

A demon lunged at her from either side, greenish gas swirling ominously around them. Phoebe was forced to back up several steps as she fended off one with her stolen knife, and kicked the other in the stomach to keep him back. The one she’d kicked recovered faster than she’d expected, and she was still grappling with the other one when she came lunging back in, aiming her club at Phoebe’s head. Phoebe jerked out of the way and swung her weight around, driving her other opponent into their ally’s path. The club connected with the demon’s skull, and he toppled to the ground, insensate but not dead, just in time for Phoebe to see Leo take the other one’s head off with a hard swing of his sword.

Dropping to one knee, Phoebe drove her stolen knife into the demon’s throat, and then flipped the knife as she came up to stab the one looming over her through the smog in the gut. They exploded into hellfire in tandem, and Phoebe looked around for the last two, if her first quick count had been accurate. It was hard to see through the smoke, and Phoebe covered her mouth with her sleeve before the urge to retch became too strong. It smelt like a restaurant’s garbage bin after a week in the midsummer sun, and it itched at her throat when she breathed too deeply.

A shape loomed at her side, and she whipped around, knife coming up before she realised it was Cole. “We should get to cleaner air.” He suggested, and Phoebe just nodded and let him lead the way. They found Leo a few steps further down, leaning against the wall of the tunnel. He didn’t say a word as they passed him, but just fell into step with them. As they passed the place where they’d killed the first demon, Phoebe paused, looking down at the skull thoughtfully. “Will they be able to track that?” She asked Cole.

He shrugged. “Maybe. You could probably cleanse it even if they could.”

“I don’t have any of the herbs or incense that I’d need for a proper cleansing.” Phoebe corrected, shaking her head. Her stomach lurched, and she swallowed hard in an attempt to push down the sudden urge to throw up. That smell really was disgusting. “Well, let’s take it, anyway. If it’s powerful, we might be able to do something with it, and even if we can’t, I don’t want to let anyone else get their hands on it.” After sticking her newly acquired athame into her belt, she bent down, rewrapped the skull, and hefted it into her arms.

“You’re going to fight while carting that thing about?” Cole demanded, not looking impressed in the slightest by Phoebe’s tactical decisions.

“If we get attacked, I’ll drop it, and pick it up later.” Phoebe informed him, taking a moment to find her balance with the heavy skull in her arms before she started walking again. “Now lets go find more trouble.”

They did just that. Several tunnels and strange twists and turns later, where the air was clearer, they ran into a group of half a dozen demons. Literally. One moment Phoebe had been watching the end of the tunnel as she walked, and the next a dark blur had slammed into her and knocked her to the floor. For a moment, the whole world seemed to lurch and spin as her sense of balance struggled to right itself. The blur above her resolved itself into a demon with black eyes that looked just as startled to see her as she was to see it. She lashed out with the skull in her hands because it was the only weapon she had access to at the moment, and the demon grunted, but didn’t pause in his attempts to get his hands around Phoebe’s throat.

“Oh no you _don’t_!” Phoebe grunted, bucking her entire body to throw the demon off, then tossing the skull the other way. In that brief moment, she caught a glimpse of Cole and Leo both being ganged up on. Then she reached for her athame and twisted to face her own assailant. The demon was already up, and aiming a kick at her head. Phoebe hurled her torso upwards to avoid it, then stabbed the demon in the thigh, which was the best she could reach from the floor. It was clearly a non-vital wound, but the demon recoiled with a hiss of pain, and then began to shrink in on itself.

For a moment, Phoebe thought that had been enough to vanquish it, but instead, the demon shrunk down into the shape of a rat, and scurried into the shadows. Phoebe didn’t exactly _like_ rats, but she hadn’t thought she was particularly squeamish about them until that moment. The sight of the creature vanishing into the shadows made her feel sick, her skin crawling with disgust.

Phoebe lurched to her feet, swayed momentarily, and then forced herself forwards, athame at the ready. She took one of the demons attacking Cole down with a knife in the back, which gave him the space to get another with an energy-ball. The last shrank into another rat and vanished. “ _Rat demons_.” Cole spat, looking as disgusted as Phoebe felt.

“Figures the Underworld has a rat infestation.” Phoebe muttered, and went to help Leo with the one he was still struggling with. The other appeared to have been run through. Another demon stabbed in the back, but this time, Phoebe couldn’t quite keep the small groan of disgust back as it died. “Ugh. I feel sick.” She complained.

“You- _Phoebe_.” Cole growled in reprimand. “Leo, heal her.”

“From wha-? Oh, the gas.” Leo realised, and laid glowing hands on Phoebe’s forehead and stomach. The touch of his hands made Phoebe want to recoil, skin crawling, but she forced herself not to. It definitely wasn’t a normal reaction, so she probably _had_ been poisoned.

“You need to tell us if you’re feeling odd.” Cole lectured her angrily as she waited for the healing to kick in and stop her feeling so awful. “You can’t just ignore it if you’re not feeling well, that’s how people get _killed_ in fights like this.”

“I wasn’t ignoring it, I just didn’t realise it was anything _odd_ until just now. Rats are gross on a good day!” Phoebe protested. Cole glared at her a moment longer, then abruptly turned and fired off two energy balls. Twin squeals of agony and two tiny bursts of hellfire told Phoebe that he’d managed to catch the two rat demons that had transformed. “Good aim.” Phoebe complimented.

“Can’t have them running back to their boss and telling them where we are.” Cole said, then turned to frown at Leo. “What’s taking so long?”

“Poisons are always a bit more complicated than wounds.” Leo gritted out, shooting Cole an irritated look. “I’m working as fast as I can.” Phoebe honestly hadn’t noticed how terrible she’d been feeling until she started to feel better. After several more minutes where Leo scowled at his hands and Cole scowled along the tunnel and Phoebe tried not to feel too impatient, Leo finally lowered his hands. “Your balance might still be upset for a few hours, but you should be fine after that.”

“We should find somewhere to lie low, then.” Cole suggested.

“What? No. I’m fine, Cole, I can keep going.” Phoebe protested. She turned and bent to pick up the skull by one of it’s horns. She felt a little dizzy as she straightened, but it was nothing she couldn’t ignore. She considered the skull for a moment. “You said they were probably going to use this in a ritual, right?” She asked Cole, who nodded resentfully. “Hmm…”

“What?” Cole asked.

“Nothing, just thinking.” Phoebe dismissed. “If nothing else, I’m sure it’ll make a good club. Let’s go.” She tossed out flippantly, and set off down the tunnel again. They started encountering a lot more turn-offs and branches, and Phoebe mostly navigated them by playing eenie-meenie-miney-mo on them. There were even stairs here and there, which Cole told her to avoid.

“Why?” Phoebe asked, the second time they ran across a set of stairs leading down.

“They’ll take you into the Underworld proper. We must be close to some hub, probably an upper-level demon’s lair, or maybe a meeting hall or market.”

“The Underworld has _markets_?” Phoebe asked, amused by the thought.

Cole flicked a pointed glance down to the skull she was still carrying. “We have to get our virgin’s blood and innocent souls somewhere.” He quipped, although Phoebe could tell he wasn’t actually _joking_. “The main demonic market is actually top-side, but it’s a lot easier to trade things like souls down here, because the ambient magic preserves them where they’d fade and move on if they lingered in the mortal world.” Phoebe shuddered at that, but kept moving.

They started encountering more demons, although they were all fairly easy to vanquish. It turned out the skull really _did_ make an excellent weapon, as hitting demons with it seemed to both stun and horrify them in equal measure. Phoebe used her simple little vanquishing spell a couple more times, and discovered to her annoyance that it didn’t even work on all lower-level demons. Generic canon-fodder demons, yes, it could put those down, but it wouldn’t kill raptor demons, or thrull demons, or even rat demons.

That last one she discovered when they were well past the hub, and back into tunnels that could go on for ages, and they tripped into a low-ceilinged cavern where the blasted things apparently nested. She’d thought she could get them all with a quick spell, and be done, but there just wasn’t enough power behind it to squash even one of them. It made Phoebe miss Piper and her ability to just blow demons up, it made her miss Prue, and the way she could throw a demon’s fire-ball right back in their face.

And she _hated_ these demons for reminding her, for _existing_ when Piper and Prue were _dead_ , and Phoebe was helpless. She laid about her with her athame, using the surprisingly sturdy skull as a shield more than a weapon now – it didn’t seem to be overly damaged by fire-balls, which was useful – and letting her hate overwhelm her grief. It was so much easier to be angry.

They were making decent, if slow, progress when all of a sudden every last rat demon went still, heads tilted up as though they were scenting the air. Then there was a flood of rats sweeping around the three of them as the rat demons inexplicably fled. Phoebe stared around her, too startled to be freaked out by the swarm of rats scurrying over each other around her.

“We should go.” Cole said urgently. He tried to take a step, and his foot nearly went out from under him as it got caught in the tide of rodents. Snarling, he blasted a patch clear with an energy-ball, and stepped forwards. It was slow going, but within a few seconds, all the rats were gone, and he ran the last few strides to Phoebe, catching her with an arm around her, and holding a hand out to Leo, who had somehow ended up all the way on the other side of the cave. He started walking over to them, but slowly as he cast a wary eye over their surroundings.

An echoing, haunting wail reverberated out of a tunnel. Leo faltered, turning to stare towards the sound, then whipped back to face them and started running. Before he could reach them, a strange amorphous _thing_ oozed out of the tunnel. Phoebe could only stare, heart racing. It looked vaguely humanoid, sometimes, but sometimes it appeared to be moving on all fours, or slithering like a snake. It was ghostly, more solid towards the centre, but wisping at the edges like dense fog.

The whole cavern shook, Leo lost his footing and went sprawling, skidding along the floor for several feet before he scrambled up to all fours. The creature, whatever it was, seemed to be trying to expand to fill the space, and electricity began to dance around it, sheering whole chunks of rock away from the walls, and dropping stalagmites from the ceiling. Those chunks of rock wobbled, shook, and then rose up. Leo scrambled to his feet and lunged at Phoebe and Cole. The moment he touched them, he orbed them out.

A hateful shriek followed them into the non-space between places, and stabbed right through Phoebe’s head. They landed, still staggering from Leo’s impact, and the moment they had their feet under them again, Cole took them somewhere else. That somewhere was a cave of dark grey rock, the floor covered in shale and the cavern roof so far above their heads that it was lost to shadow. It was blessedly empty, and once she’d ascertained that, Phoebe allowed herself to sit on the uncomfortable shards and press her hands to her ears. “What was _that_?”

“Poltergeist.” Cole informed her.

“ _That_ was a poltergeist?!” Phoebe yelped, looking up at him in horror.

“I’ve never seen one that big before!” Leo exclaimed, eyes wide enough to be showing whites all round his irises.

Cole raised an eyebrow at him. “You clearly haven’t spent much time in the darker corners of the Underworld.” He remarked dryly, as though he wasn’t stating the obvious. “They can reach easily twice that size here. If they get much bigger than that, though, someone usually has to do something about them before they absorb too many of the rank and file.” He shrugged, with a slightly vicious smile. “It’s something of a sport to the really powerful upper-level demons. If you can disperse it, you can usually absorb some of the magical energy. It’s a great power-boost, if the poltergeist doesn’t kill you first.”

“Huh.” Phoebe said, looking down at the skull in her hand, smiling a little as a few ideas began to come together in her mind. They were still unformed, impractical, and not at all concise, but it was the beginnings of a plan, and that was infinitely more satisfying than where she’d been before their little jaunt into the Underworld’s underbelly. “Well, let’s rest for a bit, and then we can go hunting again.”


	3. Chapter 3

Time quickly became unreal to Phoebe. Without a day and a night, the sun rising and setting and rising again, she easily lost track of how much time had passed. She slept when she was tired, until she woke up, and then she went hunting demons, dragging Cole and Leo along in her wake. She’d slept three times, so she was calling it three days, but it felt so much longer than that. It felt like weeks already.

She’d amassed a small arsenal by stealing weapons off the demons she confronted. There was never anything quite as good as Leo’s magic sword, and several times she found herself holding strange metallic wands that wouldn’t do anything in her hands, but if Cole touched them, they’d shoot lightning or fire or plasma. She mostly collected athames and knives. They were fairly common among the lower-level demons, because some of them were like her, without any active powers to defend themselves.

Her clothes suffered. Leo kept healing her injuries, which she was getting less of as she got used to fighting the way she was, but it was a toss up whether her clothes would be repaired along with her flesh, and consistently sleeping on rocks had turned her white top and jacket grey really quickly. When they came across a demon with a decent leather jacket, Phoebe appropriated it before she stabbed her.

Then the bounty hunters cornered them again. They had been hunting demons for hours, aiming for those places in the magical-sewage-tunnels that Cole assured her were close to the lairs of upper-level demons who were in the Source’s confidence, and Phoebe was finally forced to admit that she was flagging. She’d been making stupid mistakes for a while, and Cole finally put his foot down. The retreated to a new, isolated little cave, which they did every ‘night’, and they lay down to sleep without any preamble.

Phoebe had just started to drift off, tucked between Cole and the wall of the cave, when there was a sudden roar of flame, and heat washed over her like a wave. Cole cried out, immediately curling around her and pressing her back against the wall. Phoebe was tempted to punch him. She was even more tempted, but somewhat less inclined, when she realised that his shout had been more than shock. His clothes were _on fire_. “Idiot.” Phoebe hissed, squirming out of his hold so that he could roll over onto his other side and smother the fires.

Before she even had her feet under her, a jet of fire washed over the wall of the cave within a few feet of her, and she yelped and dived out of the way as it swept through the place she’d just been standing. “ _Spirits of air, bank the fire, before it becomes a funeral pyre!_ ” Phoebe shouted, and the swirling through the cave abruptly died.

“Oh, well done.” The man standing in the middle of the cave complimented. He was old, with grey hair slicked back and a short white goatee. He was flanked by two others, a bulky, short-haired woman in a very nice red leather coat with black fur trim, and a pixie-like young woman with her black hair buzzed on one side and carrying a crossbow. “The last you might be, but you’re still a Charmed One, aren’t you?”

“Always.” Phoebe snarled, drawing her favourite of the knives she’d collected. It was a nasty thing, serrated along one side, and cursed with a strength-draining spell. A cut with that, and if it wasn’t lethal, it would still incapacitate most lower-level demons within seconds. The man opened his mouth, to exchange more banter, probably, but Phoebe didn’t have any patience for that after his _first_ horrid quip. She lunged forwards, knife leading.

The bulky woman charged her like a bull, blocking Phoebe’s access to the old man. Phoebe danced out of her way, but a bolt of lightning shooting out of the woman’s fingertips stopped her from advancing again. “Hello again, Belthazor.” The old man said, and Phoebe looked over to see Cole on his feet, fires out and a furious glare directed at the old man. “It’s been a long time.”

“Seventy years.” Cole agreed.

“Mm. I’ve never quite stopped hating you for what you did to me back then, even though I gained _so much_ from it. Funny that, isn’t it? Which is why I was so _delighted_ when the Source told me what my new mission was.” The old man explained, smiling beatifically as he waved his hand and conjured up more flames around Cole. This time, however, Cole was ready, and shimmered out before the fire reached him.

Phoebe didn’t get to see where he went, because the bulky woman was on top of her again, and she had to slash hastily at her hand before she could grab Phoebe’s throat. The knife caught her hand, and Phoebe had a moment to hope, but the demon just hissed, and shook her hand like the cut from the cursed knife was a particularly painful _paper-cut_. Then she grinned nastily at Phoebe. “That sort of thing only works on those weak enough to have no strength to spare.”

“And I suppose you’re, what? A strong-man demon?” Phoebe mocked, frustrated.

The demon gave her a look so unimpressed it bordered on disgusted. “A tracer demon, actually. But you have _no idea_ how much power you can accumulate if you’re a good bounty hunter down here.” She lifted one foot, and stamped down hard, making the entire cave shake. Cracks spread out from her foot, and she smirked at Phoebe. Phoebe had barely a second to fling herself behind a rock formation before the electricity was arching towards her again. It hit the rocks with a crackle, and was swiftly followed by the demon herself. She brought a fist down on the rocks, and they shattered, leaving Phoebe with no cover. She scrambled away, while also desperately trying to swap her knife out before the demon reached her.

The demon powered forwards, catching Phoebe about the shoulders and tossing her into a wall. Phoebe hit it with a breathless cry, but she wasn’t the only one. The demon gave a strangled yell, clutching at her upper arm, where Phoebe had stabbed her with a blade that electrocuted anything it cut. It clearly wasn’t enough to put this demon down, but there _was_ a tremor in her damaged hand now. Phoebe smirked into the face of the tracer demon’s glare.

Fire was still crackling ominously around them, and Phoebe could now hear the occasional twang of a crossbow. Frantically, she tried to work out how they could get out of this. She needed a spell with the power to put down this tracer demon, and clearly a simple vanquish wouldn’t work. Then they’d have to deal with the darklighter, and the old man. What a nightmare. This team had clearly been hand-picked by the Source to hunt the three of them, and kill them.

While Phoebe was trying to compose a spell in her head that _might_ put the tracer demon down, said demon raised a hand, and shot her with a bolt of lightning. Phoebe ducked into a roll, then immediately flung herself backwards once she was on her feet to avoid a second bolt. “A storm to shake the earth and sky, a power top great for anyone to command- No, shit. A power too great for anyone to _control_ \- Oh, fuck it.” Phoebe cursed, and gave up trying to rhyme while under attack. Instead, she focused on getting close enough to the demon to cut her again.

It wasn’t working. She knew what Phoebe was doing, and was keeping her at arm’s length, fending her off with lightning. Phoebe got a little too close, close enough that her swipe with the knife caught coat but not skin, and she saw the attack coming, but didn’t have enough time to dodge. All she could do was try to move so that the blow connected with her shoulder, not her chest.

The next thing she knew, she was on the ground, her entire right side an unending sea of agony. She blinked dazedly up at the roof of the cave, wondering if it had always wobbled that alarmingly. Then her view was blocked by the tracer demon looming over, smugness radiating from her as she leaned down and grabbed Phoebe’s good arm. When she lifted, however, something in Phoebe’s other shoulder shifted in a way it really shouldn’t, pain flared white-hot and all-consuming, and Phoebe _screamed_.

“ _Phoebe!_ ” Cole shouted, but his voice turned gravelly half way through. That should worry Phoebe, she knew it should, but she couldn’t remember why over the agony in her shoulder. Then she was falling, someone was screaming, and Phoebe tried to brace herself for impact. But she never hit the ground. Instead, huge arms caught her by the waist and around her good shoulder. It still tweaked her bad shoulder, the unexpected halt in motion jarring it, but it was mild enough that Phoebe only whimpered.

Belthazor loomed over her, his red face alien and alarming, but his eyes still held warmth and concern, not mindless rage or vicious cruelty. Phoebe attempted a smile, but had a feeling it looked more like a grimace. Then Belthazor _roared_. It was a sound composed half of rage, and half of pain. Clumsily, Phoebe tried to reach out, to comfort or protect or _something_ , but her good arm was pinned to Belthazor’s chest, and trying to move her other arm sent bolts of pain radiating through her shoulder. The initial agony was fading though, and she took some comfort in that, and forced herself to think past the haze in her brain.

“You see, that’s your problem, Belthazor.” The old man remarked from somewhere out of Phoebe’s view. “You never _could_ quite let go of that pesky little soul of yours.”

“I’m not the only one here with a soul.” Belthazor snarled. For a moment, Phoebe was confused. Of course he wasn’t. Witches and whitelighters both had souls, too. But then the old man laughed, and her fuzzy brain caught up.

“True, true.” The old man murmured, as if the whole thing was the height of quality entertainment. “But I know better than to allow mine _any_ wiggle room. The Source watches me _far_ more closely than he ever watched you, after all. Still, it’s why I am still alive, and why _you_ are going to die.”

Belthazor tried to shimmer out with Phoebe, and the whole world wavered around her for a moment, before something seemed to squeeze her in a vice, and the world reasserted itself, just the same as before. “Did you really think we’d let you get away that easily?” The tracer demon demanded, and there was a crackle of electricity just before Belthazor roared again, and convulsed. His grip on Phoebe tightened to the point of pain, and then released her like she was burning. She tumbled off his lap and onto the ground, gasping at the renewed pain.

When she could focus passed the pain again, she found the old man standing over her, smiling like he was trying not to laugh at her. “Looks like your guard dog’s a bit distracted, so it’s just you and me now, my dear.” He said, and elegantly clasped his hands behind his back. With his suit and his neat appearance, it made him look like an old-fashioned gentleman.

“What _are_ you?” Phoebe demanded, though with how breathless she was, it didn’t quite have the effect she was hoping for.

The man’s eyebrows rose, genuine surprise flashing across his face, before he smiled again. “You don’t know? I’m in that lovely book of yours, you know. Well, not myself specifically, but we firestarters are quite famous. Rare, too. There’s perhaps three a generation, if that. We’re the Source’s personal bodyguards, and occasionally, his assassins.”

Even though she knew Shax was nothing like a firestarter, the concept of an assassin belonging to the Source still made Phoebe so angry she could choke on it. Words escaped her, vanished beneath the red haze, but she wrestled with her temper until she could remember that she had a plan, she just needed a little bit more information on what she was trying to kill. “But you’re- Cole said-”

“Oh, I’m no demon. I’m as human as your lovely self, I assure you.” The old man informed her.

Phoebe couldn’t help her grin, even if it was tight with pain around the edges. “ _Once born of pure and cleansing fire_ ,” She began to recite, and the firestarter’s eyes widened in shock. Then he started to laugh in disbelief.

“I understand you haven’t been practising your craft very long, but really, girl, what do you mean to accomplish?” He asked, talking over her. “One witch alone doesn’t have the power to destroy a _firestarter_. We’re more powerful than almost any other mortal power. The Charmed Ones, perhaps, might have stood a chance, but without your sisters, you’re nothing.”

“ _Now tainted by darker desire_ ,” Phoebe pressed on through gritted teeth. If she could finish the spell, then he’d get all the comeuppance he deserved for that taunt, and then some. It just needed to be said, to go from thought to voice, to carry the magic from inside her to outside, to let it touch the rest of the world. “ _Your own power shall take your soul,_ ”

At that, the firestarter stopped looking quite so amused, and Phoebe grinned, feral with pain and the victory she could taste on the tip of her tongue. “What?” The firestarter barked. “But that’s not-” He lifted a hand, but Phoebe got there first:

“ _For hellfires burn beyond control!_ ”

The explosion washed over her, searing her skin and stealing the breath from her lungs, but her pain was nothing compared to the pure, vicious satisfaction sweeping through her. She opened her eyes after the initial blast to watch as the fires twisted and rippled, folding in on themselves as they consumed their own master, their source. Even over the ringing in her ears from the sudden explosion, she could hear him screaming, and the sound made her laugh, a touch of hysteria lingering in the back of her throat.

With her good arm, she pushed herself upright and looked around. As the fires dwindled, she found that the battle had come to a screeching halt, and the four others in the room were staring at her and the slowly shrinking vortex of fire in the middle of the cave in shock. Cole was back to himself, and Phoebe couldn’t tell if the lingering pink in his skin was because he’d only just transformed back, or because he’d been caught in the face by the shockwave of heat. The tracer demon had her mouth open in a silent cry, and one hand reaching out towards where the firestarter _had_ been standing. It was burned all over and half way up her arm, sleeve singed away. On the other side of the cave, Leo was looking blessedly _unlike_ a pincushion and, in fact, the darklighter’s bow had been cut in half, and she was now fighting with two black knives that glimmered like an oilslick.

“You-” The tracer demon stammered, turning her horrified, outraged gaze on Phoebe as the witch clambered laboriously to her feet. “How did you- You don’t have the power! You _can’t_ have-”

“I can’t?” Phoebe echoed incredulously, baring her teeth at the demon in an expression that was more of a sneer than a grin. “I might not be ‘one of the Charmed Ones’ anymore, but I am a Warren Witch, and I _most certainly can_!”

The tracer demon flinched, genuine fear flashing across her face, before it twisted into a snarl of rage, and she threw herself forwards, one fist raised. Cole dove between them, flinging energy-balls to fend the tracer demon off.

Phoebe staggered backwards, out of range of the fight, and fetched up against the cave wall. It jarred her shoulder, but she found she could brace her right arm by curling her left under her forearm and gripping the elbow, and that held whatever had been broken still. She caught her breath, took a moment to make sure her other spell would probably work, and then threw it out; “ _By shattered earth and stolen storm, this tracer grew beyond her place. Those gifts the spirits now deform, no power left to fuel the chase._ ”

The tracer demon staggered, a bolt of lightning fizzling out in her palm. She stared dumbly down at her hand, which was beginning to shake, and her knees went from under her. Cole paused only long enough to regain his own balance, and then he hurled an energy-ball into her face at point-blank range. She went up in flames with only a small, dismayed whimper to mark her passing.

When Phoebe turned to consider the darklighter, she glanced quickly between her three adversaries, and made the sensible decision. She orbed out.

Good thing, too, because Phoebe hadn’t actually come up with any ideas for how to vanquish a darklighter. She didn’t want to try the old power-switching standby, and could barely remember the spell she’d need anyway, and she didn’t have any external power she could safely turn on the darklighter. She was still contemplating the problem – this probably wouldn’t be the last darklighter they faced, given that Leo was with them, and the only thing that could reliably kill a whitelighter was a darklighter – when Cole appeared in front of her. “Phoebe? Are you-” He stopped after registering the way she was holding her arm, and turned his head just a little to bark “Leo!”

“Coming.” Leo replied, and a moment later there were gentle hands on Phoebe’s shoulder. She still flinched from the touch. Carefully keeping her breathing even, Phoebe kept her eyes closed and leaned her head back against the cave wall. Healing never hurt in itself, but that didn’t mean Leo couldn’t jostle things while he was getting there. She tried to stay as relaxed as possible, to let herself move with any nudges or pokes, instead of bracing against them.

“What’s wrong? Why isn’t it working?” Cole demanded, his voice so sharp it cut through the air like a knife, and Phoebe’s eyes snapped open. She folowed Cole’s gaze down to her shoulder, and saw that Leo’s hands, while braced over her injury as though he was ready to heal, weren’t glowing. She flicked her gaze up to Leo’s face, and saw him looking poleaxed.

“I-” Leo began, then faltered, mouthing soundlessly and shaking his head. His brown furrowed in concentration, and he glared at his hands, visibly struggling, but there was no healing light. He screwed his eyes shut, as though in pain, and his head drooped. “I can’t heal.” He whispered.

“What?” Cole snapped. Leo didn’t seem to have it in him to answer, he just carefully lifted his hands off Phoebe, and backed away several steps. Cole advanced after him. “How is that even possible?!” He demanded, reaching out and grabbing hold of Leo’s shoulder to keep him from running away. He was definitely looking flighty; desperate and panicked and like he’d prefer all the tortures the Source could come up with than having to face this situation.

Phoebe took pity on him. “It is possible.” She told Cole, who rounded on her, but didn’t let go of Leo. “We’ve seen it happen before. Well, okay, it was _Piper_ that couldn’t-” Phoebe cut herself off, agony lancing through her, which she ruthlessly ignored. “Anyway,” She continued brightly. “Yeah, it happens when a whitelighter loses touch with the source of their power.”

“And that is?” Cole pressed, but there was a resigned look in his eyes that suggested he knew exactly what it was.

Phoebe smiled grimly and shrugged her good shoulder. “Love.”

Leo flinched. He curled in on himself and wrapped his arms around his middle as though he was afraid he might come apart at the seams if he didn’t. “Well, you’re just going to have to get in touch with your inner cupid, then.” Cole snapped at him without mercy. Leo just shook his head. “ _Yes_ , damn it, Phoebe’s arm is broken by the look of it, and she _needs a healer_ , so you’re going to pull yourself together and do whatever you need to to _fix it_!”

After a moment, Leo lifted his head, and Phoebe almost recoiled at the amount of venom in his glare. “Because _you_ were so in touch with your love when _you_ lost _Phoebe_!” He bit out with surprising clarity, all his words perfectly enunciated, despite the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, and the way his shoulders were beginning to shake. “If I recall correctly, you resorted to _alchemy_ to try to shut off your feelings when Phoebe was alive and well and just didn’t trust you! Don’t you _dare_ tell me I have to be some sort of martyr to save _your_ love, when _mine_ is-” Leo’s voice finally faltered, and he gasped in a heaving breath that shook on its way back out.

“I’ll admit mine wasn’t the healthiest reaction, but _you’re_ supposed to be the angel, here. If anyone-” Cole began.

“ _Cole!_ ” Phoebe barked, before he could say anything that would drive Leo away. She was a little worried that he might just run if they attacked him like this any further, and if he left, she was terrified he might just try to kill himself. If not outright, then by biting off more than he could chew. If he was losing his healing ability, he might be losing his immortality as well. She’d already lost two sisters, she couldn’t handle losing her brother, too. She just couldn’t.

Cole turned to her, looking furious, but Phoebe held his glare, and glared right back. “It’s fine. We just have to set my arm the old-fashioned way.”

“It’s going to take weeks, maybe _months_ , to heal if we leave it like that.” Cole protests. “And Phoebe, I know you, you’re not going to be able to sit still for that long down here.”

“Well, no, of course not.” Phoebe scoffed. “But it’s not like my punching them was vanquishing all that many demons anyway. I still have my knives and one good arm. That’ll do until I’m healed.” Cole opened his mouth to protest, but Phoebe interrupted him before he could even start. “No, Cole! If Leo can’t heal anymore, that’s fine! You didn’t complain because I couldn’t blow the demons up, so don’t complain now when it’s Leo’s turn to be handicapped!”

“That is _not_ the same-!” Cole snarled.

“So what? You can’t _change_ this by _yelling_ at him! You can’t _fix_ this, Cole! So unless you’re going to-” Phoebe almost couldn’t say the next words, but she forced them out ruthlessly. “Unless you’re going to bring Piper and Prue back from the dead, _drop it_ , alright?!”

Cole blinked at her, stunned, but Leo made a wounded sound and ripped himself out of Cole’s grasp, backing away until his back hit the wall and he could sink down into a ball. Then he covered his face with his hands and moaned like he was being tortured, and didn’t have the energy to scream anymore. “I can’t-” Leo breathed out, so quite Phoebe almost missed it. “I _can’t_ -” He tried again, but faltered before he could finish.

Phoebe thought she ought to go over there and comfort him, but just the thought made her feel like her chest was caving in. There wasn’t any way she could help, it was taking all of her energy just to keep herself in one piece. She didn’t have the resources to spare to hold Leo together, too. Cole was the one who had been doing that, up until now. He’d been holding them both together, really. Offering Phoebe a shoulder to lean on, and a path to vengeance. Phoebe wasn’t quite sure what Cole had offered Leo, maybe just silent companionship, maybe just understanding, but it was clear that Leo was falling apart.

“What- what’s the _point_ ?” Leo gasped out, and huffed a small laugh that quickly became a sob. “I can’t _heal_ \- I’ve always- I- And without _Pi_ -” He choked on her name, and curled in even tighter on himself. “If- if I can’t even h-help you, then-”

No. Phoebe was not going to let him go down that road. Not on her watch. She strode across the cave and reached out with her good hand to grab Leo’s chin and force him to look up at her. Her broken arm dangled uselessly, and she gritted her teeth against the pain. She could see tear tracks on Leo’s cheeks, more tears lining his eyes and spilling over when he blinked, and she thought idly that they made quite the pair. “You pull yourself together _right now_ , Leo!” She snapped. “Obviously it would be great if you had the power to heal all the world’s ills and vanquish all its evil. But you don’t. And that sucks. It’s very sad. And now is _so not the time_ to dwell on it!”

“But I-” Leo began, faltering, and trying to shake his head. Phoebe wouldn’t let him. “I’m not- There’s nothing I can _do…_ ” He trailed off helplessly.

Phoebe made sure to be very obvious and dramatic about how she was rolling her eyes. “Yes there is.” She told him in a tone that brooked no argument. “I’m going to need all hands on deck for my plan. You don’t get to drop out now.”

“Your… You have a plan?” Leo asked, quiet and almost tentative, as if he didn’t want to engage, but he couldn’t quite help his curiosity. His hope.

Phoebe smirked, inordinately pleased with herself. “I have a plan.” She confirmed. “So are you going to get up and help, or am I going to have to carry you with a broken arm?”

Leo shook his head. “You need to splint that.” He murmured, so absently Phoebe wondered if he even knew he’d said it out loud. But then he was pushing himself to his feet and distracting her by taking a deep, steadying breath and asking; “Okay, so what is your plan?”

“I think I know how I can kill the Source.” Phoebe stated. _That_ got both Leo and Cole’s undivided attention. “External power.” She explained, and watched as Leo frowned in confusion, but Cole slowly gaped at her in awed understanding.

“That was what you did with the Firestarter. You turned his own power against him.”

“Sort of.” Phoebe hedged, grimacing. “It’s more like… Firestarters are human, right? They have souls. And while they’re born with the capacity for good or evil, the powers they get come from one side or the other, right?” Cole and Leo both nodded to confirm. “Well, given what he said about not forgiving you for what you did, and the bit about the Source watching him which was why he suppressed his soul so well… I figured Firestarters don’t get their gifts from evil.”

“They don’t.” Leo agreed, a bit dazed, clearly struggling to follow. “They’re supposed to be, well… purifiers. Their gifts are some of the most volatile, but also one of the most powerful weapons against evil, because they burn out corruption.” He stopped, blinked, and choked on the realisation.

“I just reminded his magic of it’s original purpose. He tried to burn the corruption out of himself.” Phoebe explained.

Cole was nodding now. “That’s why the Source is always so eager to collect Firestarters. If he can get them young and turn them to his side… That was genius, Phoebe.” He complimented, giving her that intense, almost desperate look that always made Phoebe feel like she could do anything.

“But the Source _is_ evil.” Leo pointed out.

“Yes, and the exact same thing won’t work in this case, but there are other sources of power besides myself. And if I can gather enough magic from elsewhere, and channel it through the right ritual, find the right representation and symbolism… then there’s no reason I can’t kill him.” She beamed, wickedly delighted.

“I think it might work.” Cole agreed. “But I have no idea where you think you might get enough power to match the Source of All Evil.”

Phoebe may have bounced on the spot a little. Cole narrowed his eyes at her, wary, but Phoebe was too proud of her plan to be dissuaded by a little bit of suspicion. She grinned in the face of his mistrust. “Who wants to go poltergeist hunting with me?”


	4. Chapter 4

“ _What_?! No! Absolutely not!”

Phoebe jerked backwards, stunned by that point-blank denial of her idea. It was risky, she could admit that, but she’d thought it was a pretty good idea, all things considered. “But you _said_ upper-level demons did that sometimes, so it’s not impossible-”

Cole covered his eyes with one hand, as though he might be able to make reality go away by refusing to look at it. “Upper-level demons occasionally, when they’re feeling reckless and overconfident, take _entire armies_ of cannon-fodder into the passages to flush out a poltergeist, and bait it into chasing the lower-level demons while the upper-level demons risk immolation _or worse_ darting in to siphon off a _little bit of power at a time_. They don’t go in _injured_ , with only _two allies_ , to try and gather enough power to _kill the Source_!”

Phoebe raised an eyebrow at him. “But it _is_ possible.” She guessed, although she made it sound like she already knew it was.

“Even if it was,” Cole retorted, voice going low the way it only did when he was angry beyond reason. “Even _if_ you could get enough power to do what you’re planning, Phoebe, this is the sum of the most malicious, violent, _cruel_ magic that ever gets used, _distilled_ into a pure essence of malice. And, Phoebe, you’ve always been a _good person_. One of the best.” Cole sounded so sincere when he said that, that Phoebe flushed despite herself. “Do you have any idea what channelling that sort of vile magic could _do_ to you?”

“If it helps me kill the Source? I don’t _care_ , Cole.” Phoebe replied, meeting his gaze so he knew she meant every word.

“I do.” Cole replied, stepping closer and taking hold of her good arm. His other hand hovered over her injured arm, clearly wanting to touch, to hold her, but entirely unwilling to hurt her. “I care. I love you, Phoebe, and I won’t lose you, not even to yourself.”

Phoebe gritted her teeth, but couldn’t quite find it in herself to be angry at him for loving her. “Then we find a different conduit.” She decided. “Like using the tracer demon’s stolen powers against her. I didn’t need to channel them because they were already in her. So maybe we need to bait the Source into absorbing a poltergeist?” She wondered.

“That would be difficult.” Cole murmured, which was better than an outright rejection, but ultimately not very helpful. “And any other external power is going to have to go through you. You’re the witch. You have to shape it.”

“Maybe I could purify a poltergeist?” Phoebe mused. “Turn it from malicious energy into benign energy? Although I have no idea where to even start…”

“That wouldn’t work.” Leo interjected, sounding hollow and exhausted, but no longer close to a meltdown. “All things balance. You can’t turn evil good. You can put in enough good to neutralise it, invest enough love and care into something to help it grow, but if you did that with a malicious poltergeist, it would exhaust you, and all you’d get for your efforts is _less energy_.”

Phoebe threw her good arm in the air. She started to try the same motion with her right arm, but the moment she so much as shifted, it shot a warning bolt of pain right through her. “So, what, then?” She asked once she could unclench her jaw. “It’s not like there’s a huge abundance of good magical sources in the _Underworld_.”

Cole made a thoughtful sound, and Phoebe turned to pin him with a demanding stare. He almost quirked a smile. “I was just thinking, perhaps I was wrong.”

“About?” Phoebe demanded impatiently.

“You _having_ to channel an external source. You said, earlier, that if you had the right ritual you could kill the Source. Well, what if you used a ritual to imbue a _weapon_ with enough power to kill the Source. We’ve been using malicious magic against the demons the whole time.” He waved a hand at Leo’s sword. “If you could _contain_ a poltergeist’s energy, and then had a spell to _release it_ at the Source, that might work.”

“But that still has the problem of going poltergeist hunting.” Phoebe pointed out.

“Trying to lure one into a trap isn’t quite as dangerous as trying to rip bits out of it while it’s mad.” Cole pointed out dryly. Phoebe snorted her way helplessly into laughter at that, and nodded in acknowledgement.

“Okay.” Phoebe declared. “Splint first, and then we figure out how we can contain a poltergeist.” They scavenged for something that would work as a splint, and eventually resorted to sending Cole off to raid some demon’s lair for something. He came back with a plank of wood that was somewhat bloodstained at one end, which he looked rather sheepish about, and they broke it down into something that would do for the time being. Cole offered up his robe thing – under which he was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, which Phoebe thought looked far better on him – to use as bandages, and Leo helped set her arm before they wrapped it. It was clumsy and awkward, but at least Phoebe’s arm hurt less now when she tried to move it. That was good enough.

Then they worked through every containment and weapon-making ritual they all knew combined, and came up with a ceremony they were fairly sure would work. It was patched together out of a few dark rituals Cole knew, a few ancient weapon enchantments Leo remembered, and one of the few rituals Phoebe could remember from the Book of Shadows for ‘harnessing great power’.

They would need several supplies that would be hard to get, down here in the underworld, but Cole was fairly sure that the incense, the blood, and the bones of a dragon would be available at a market. Of course, getting into the market was the problem. They needed disguises. A couple of raids on a lower-level demon’s nest offered them enough to chose from, although the pickings weren’t great. Phoebe tried to ignore how badly they smelled as she pulled on the rough, stained clothes. But most importantly, the jacket had a hood, which she could use to cover her face.

“Alright, we stick together, and the _moment_ you even think someone’s made you, we shimmer out.” Cole instructed sternly. “Because if we give them time, they’ll throw up wards, and then we’ll have to fight our way through to get out.” Phoebe nodded solemnly, so Cole held out a hand, which she took. Leo grabbed Cole’s elbow, and they went.

They arrived in a shadowed corner of a bustling market, and to Phoebe’s relief, no one paid them any mind. “Come on.” Cole murmured, tucking Phoebe’s hand into his arm like she were some sort of Victorian lady. The romantic tucked away not-so-secretly in Phoebe’s heart thrilled at the gesture. Her practical side remembered to keep track of Leo as he followed close in their wake.

Cole knew his way around, so Phoebe was content to let him lead the way. They stopped at a stall selling candles and incense, and traded one of Phoebe less well enchanted daggers for a few bundles, and then moved on to a stall that stocked glass bottles of all sizes full of thick red liquid. “Is it all human?” Phoebe asked in an undertone, although she also tried to keep her tone mildly curious instead of sick and horrified.

Cole glanced at her, then shook his head. “No, there’s some animal, some demon, even. See, there?” He pointed to the glass bottles with black or green inside rather than red. “But we need human blood. Preferably an innocent’s blood.” Phoebe pursed her lips, but nodded firmly. Cole side-eyed her for a long moment. “We can come up with a different plan.” He offered.

“No, this is the best one we’ve got.” Phoebe said, shutting down the part of her that quailed at the idea of using an innocent’s blood for a ritual. Especially like this, when she was fairly sure the innocent died to provide that blood.

Cole continued to watch her a beat longer, then nodded. “Alright.” He agreed, and pushed forward to the front of the press of demons. When there was a lull, he called out his own order, and the proprietor of the stall pointed out a rather large shelf. Cole gave the old woman a hard look, and started interrogating her as to the age, condition, and origin of the various options. The woman brightened when she realised she was talking to someone who knew what they were doing, and got into a lively debate over the price of her best stock.

Phoebe tried to tune it out, lest her resolve waver. At a glance, she could tell that Leo wasn’t listening, either, because his expression was the same blank disinterest he’d been wearing since she’d kept him from having a complete meltdown, without a hint of distaste for what was going on right in front of them. But they managed to endure, and they walked away from the stall with a bottle of human blood added to their purchases.

Then they had to scour the marketplace for _dragon bones_. Phoebe hadn’t even known dragon’s existed until Cole had mentioned the power of their bones. “Well, they don’t anymore.” Cole informed her as they ambled. “They’ve been extinct for the last… thousand years? Eight hundred years. But there are plenty of bones around, and they’re the best in magical containment.”

“So, basically, we’re going to turn a dragon’s knucklebone into a magical bomb.” Phoebe surmised.

Cole tipped his head in agreement with a sideways smile. “More or less.”

It took them ages to find anywhere that might possibly have some dragon bones available, and in the end, it wasn’t one of the stalls that specialised in rare objects. Instead, they found exactly what they were looking for at a scraps and debris stall tucked away in a shadowed corner that no one was paying any attention to. Phoebe was the one who spotted it, and pointed it out to Cole, asking if it was what they were looking for.

It was a dirty yellow-ish awkwardly shaped lump the size of a loaf of bread. Phoebe tried to imagine the size of a creature with an ankle bone that large, and then stopped, because her brain was hurting. “How could something that large exist, and mortals still believe it’s a myth?” She asked in a whisper.

“Oh, at the time, they knew they were real, but over time they were forgotten.” Cole explained as he stepped forwards. “How much for the knucklebone?” He asked, and the stall’s minder peered up at him from under a heavy black hood through their one good eye.

“Hmm… You wouldn’t be interested in trading your soul, would you?” They asked in a voice that immediately made Phoebe think of crows and graveyards.

“No.”

“Your powers then?”

“Also no.”

“What about that lovely sword your friend is carrying?”

Cole looked thoughtful, so Phoebe jumped in with a quick “ _No_.” Leo was already feeling useless enough. She really didn’t want to see what he would do if they took his only way to fight away as well. Cole gave her a side-ways look, caught sight of her stubborn expression, and capitulated.

“Well, then, why would I give it to _you_?” The stall-minder asked.

Phoebe laid out every last one of the athame’s she’d collected off the demons. “How about these?” She offered. The demon leaned forwards to consider them, tapping a few with their talons. And they were talons, not nails, serrated down the inside edge and wickedly sharp at the tip.

“Tch. You want dragonbone for those trinkets? Not likely.” The stall-minder scoffed. “Stop wasting my time, or go away.”

Phoebe and Cole looked at each other, trying to work out what their next move should be, but Phoebe was coming up blank. There wasn’t much else they had to trade, and trying to steal the knucklebone would get them sealed into this cavern with all these demons out for their blood, and most likely the Source on the way. But they couldn’t leave without the dragon bone. Their entire plan fell apart without it.

“Demons trade in blood as well as souls and power, don’t they?” Leo asked abruptly.

The stall-minder lit up, one eye gleaming with eagerness. “We do, we do! Are you _offering_?!” They cackled with delight, fingers flexing as though resisting the temptation to reach out and take.

“Leo, that’s not a good idea.” Cole warned. “Blood magic is powerful. With your blood, someone could-”

“What? Take away my powers? They’re already failing. Kill me? I don’t care. Track me? They’re already tracking us, this isn’t going to make it that much worse.” Leo retorted impatiently. “Do you want my blood or not?” He demanded of the stall-minder.

“Yes! One flaskful of _freely-given_ blood, and the bone is all yours!” They crowed triumphantly, reaching across the stall. Leo offered up his arm, and the demon sliced a fairly large cut across the back of his arm, swiftly slipping a dusty glass bottle under the wound to catch the blood that immediately began to drip. Phoebe waited with baited breath as Leo bled and Cole collected their knucklebone. The moment the flask was full, Leo withdrew his arm, and grabbed at Cole’s shoulder.

Cole shimmered them to a far distant cavern, and immediately took off for one of the tunnels leading away from their landing site. Phoebe and Leo were hot on his heels, and the three of them didn’t stop running, and occasionally shimmering to a different set of tunnels, until they were fairly sure they couldn’t be traced. “That was a _terrible idea_!” Cole snapped, the moment they paused for breath.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Leo retorted, eyes on his wound as he wrapped it with a scrap of material off the hem of his shirt.

Cole stared at him for a long moment, then turned away, waving his hands in a clear dismissal. “This is going to come back to bite us.” He announced, and Phoebe winced, because there was a weight to those words that made her, with all her skill at predicting the future, feel they were more portent than just a simple warning.

“We got what we needed.” Phoebe reminded them both. “So now, we need to find somewhere to set up to lure in and absorb a poltergeist.” Cole looked like he wanted to argue more, but in the end he decided it wasn’t worth it right now, and nodded, offering his hand to her.

He took them back to the sewage-tunnels, and found a small cave that didn’t appear to be inhabited by anything else. Then he and Leo went to stand guard while Phoebe set up. Candles in a six-point circle, to invite in dark energy, incense all around for binding, the knucklebone in the centre, daubed with innocent blood to act as bait. Phoebe knelt before her improvised altar, within the circle of the candles, and began to chant.

“Come to me. I invite thee into my circle. Offerings I’ve laid for thee. Grant me thy power. Come to me. I invite thee into my circle.” The chant went on, and Phoebe didn’t falter, even as her throat grew dry and her voice turned hoarse.

And then she heard it, that painful wail that seemed to dart right through her head. She flinched, and finally gave up chanting as a mist that almost blended with the incense began to seep into their cave. A sense of doom permeated the air, and Phoebe’s breath caught. This creature was powerful, massively, terribly powerful, and she was only one witch. One witch without her sisters, alone and helpless, and this thing was going to _kill her_. It was going to destroy her, and there wasn’t a single thing she could do about it. She could fight and flail all she wanted, but she was nothing in the face of such pure murderous rage.

“ _Phoebe_! The _ritual_!” Cole shouted.

Phoebe looked down at her altar, and gasped in a breath. The spots dancing in her vision began to clear out, and she gasped another incense-thick breath down. For all that the smoke was heady and thick in her lungs, it cleared her mind, and bound the influence of the poltergeist. She shook her head, which made her dizzy, and tried to remember the next step.

She took one of the incense sticks, and lifted it up, just in time to open a path for the poltergeist as it swarmed towards the knucklebone, searching for the innocent that was supposed to be bleeding in the centre of the circle. “ _Power of evil kind, this bone contains and binds_!” Phoebe shouted, and laid her hand on the dragon bone.

For one terrible moment, Phoebe was afraid that it hadn’t worked. That her spell was too weak, too short to have any effect, that she herself was simply not powerful enough, never mind that it was the dragon bone that should be doing all the heavy lifting, power-wise. She had specifically avoided tethering any of the magic to herself in her spell, because she knew that if it came down to the magic of the poltergeist versus her own magic, she would lose, and lose badly.

Then a storm spilled out from where her hand touched the dragon bone. A whirl of wind swept out and around her altar, spinning the incense into a wall that was almost opaque. The poltergeist was almost entirely trapped inside. With Phoebe. Dark lightning began to crackle in its depths, lashing out. One bolt caught one of the candles, and it imploded, wisping into little more than ash too fast for Phoebe’s eyes to keep up. The others arced across the binding barrier, creating bursts of power that flashed and burned. Each time one hit, the wall of smoke and wind became a little more transparent.

“ _No!”_ Phoebe shouted, desperate and determined. “No, you don’t get to escape _now_!” She laid her other hand on the bone, and willed it to draw the poltergeist in, to cage and contain its power. She thought she could see wisps of that strange mist-like substance the poltergeist was made of being drawn into the bone through the pores, but it was so slow, a trickle instead of the flood she’d been hoping for. “Come on, can’t you go any faster?” She demanded.

One of the bolts of black lightning crashed into the ground right next to Phoebe, and the power unleashed made her scream, thrown hard away from the dragon bone. She slammed into the wall of wind, and was thrown right back into the centre of the circle, tripping over the dragon bone and crashing face first into the poltergeist.

It was like taking a bath in acid. Phoebe couldn’t even find the breath to scream. She just dragged herself backwards an inch at a time, until her head and shoulders broke free, and she gasped like she’d been drowning. It came back out a sob, a wail, and the poltergeist wailed in tandem, drowning her out, subsuming her. The cave began to shake under her, the rocks cracking under her palms as she clawed her way out of the poltergeist’s grasp.

She was almost free when she saw one of the black bolts hit the dragon bone. Instead of causing another explosion, the bolt seemed to vanish, sucked up like water hitting desert sands. The poltergeist wailed again, thrashed, and lashed out at the dragon bone. More and more lightning disappeared into it as the poltergeist finally recognised what was caging it. Phoebe used its distraction to roll free, fetching up against the smoke barrier and lying there, entirely forgotten and glad of it.

The dragon bone began to glow. It was a strange light, that hurt Phoebe’s eyes to stare at too long. It was almost as though, instead of emitting its own light, the dragon bone was stealing everything else’s. Phoebe’s vision faded to grey around the edges, everything appearing indistinct and dim in comparison to the dragon bone, bright creamy yellow and daubed with rich ruby blood.

The poltergeist was coming apart at the seams, wisps bleeding off it and whirling into the air, and Phoebe cringed as one brushed past her and sent a bright shock of pain through her. They dissipated into the air, leaving the poltergeist itself to dwindle, writhing and folding in on itself and still firing off blasts of dark energy.

The poltergeist was no larger than a house cat, and Phoebe was beginning to hope it was almost over, when there was a cracking sound that seemed to shatter the very air. Phoebe flinched, and stared at the dragon bone, which now had a massive crack splitting it right down the middle. Black light began to spill out, illuminating everything except the bone itself in stark black and white. The blood looked terrible like that, a splash of red against an otherwise colourless world.

A hand caught Phoebe’s bad shoulder, and she yelped, only to have the sound turn wavery as the world wobbled and hazed and reformed around her. She was in a different cave, all pale stone shaped like little ripples, and the stone beneath her felt coarse but sandy. “What-?” She managed to get out, before the entire world had a seizure.

It was almost like an earthquake, except the very stone itself was rippling like a storm-tossed sea, the air was quivering like a terrified child, and the only solid thing in Phoebe’s entire world was Cole’s weight half on top of her. She struggled, trying to get upright and look around, to see what was happening, but when she shifted, the ground shattered beneath her, and it was only Cole’s grip on her that stopped her from tumbling into a chasm that had just opened up right in front of her nose.

Then the shaking stopped, and the world went still. Phoebe waited, counting her breaths, but nothing happened. After a small age, Cole levered himself off her. “Leo?” He called. The only answer was a groan, but it was an agreeing sounding groan, so Phoebe didn’t worry too much. Then Cole looked down at her. “Are you alright?” He asked, running his hands over her in a distinctly unsexy manner as he checked her over for injuries.

“I’ll be fine.” Phoebe assured him. “What _happened_? Where are we?”

“The dragon bone exploded, that’s what happened.” Cole informed her with a grimace. “On the upside, that would absolutely have killed the Source. On the downside, it would have killed us, too, if we’d been anywhere near the epicentre. I’m thinking we shouldn’t try that again.”

“ _Damn it_!” Phoebe cursed, slamming a fist against the ground. It crumbled under the blow, and stones clattered away down into the chasm. Phoebe hardly noticed, and didn’t care, frustration boiling under her skin. “No, we _have_ to try again, we _have to_ -” She protested, trying to stand. More ground gave way under her, and the only thing that saved her from falling into the gaping rent in the ground was Cole’s arm around her waist, dragging her backwards and into his lap.

“Phoebe, no.” He said. It was more like an order. There was an implacability to his tone that Phoebe railed against instinctively.

“ _Yes_ , god damn it. That was our _only_ working plan-”

“Obviously _not_!” Cole interjected furiously.

Phoebe’s breaths were coming shorter and harder and she couldn’t seem to find a way to calm down. She grasped for it, grappled with it, and it slid out of her grasp like smoke. “I have to _try_ , I can’t stop, I can’t just _stop_ , because if I do then I might as well just hand myself over to the Source and let him kill me! I can’t _live_ like this, Cole, I can’t- I can’t- I c-”

“Shh…” Cole breathed into her ear, and Phoebe choked on a sob that tore its way out of her, leaving her throat raw and aching. She barely had time to recover before her whole body convulsed, and she was crying harder than she’d ever cried in her life.

“I- I h-have to! D-don’t you u-underst-stand? M-my s-sist-ters are- Th-hey’re g-g-gone and I- if I c-can’t k-kill him, w-why did I e-even s-surv-vive?!” Phoebe wailed, clinging to Cole as he held her and rocked back and forth, making soft comforting sounds that weren’t quite words. She stammered out a few more attempts at an explanation, but she hardly understood what she was trying to say, except that her whole world had fallen apart, and she was lost. The only thing that had kept her going was the goal that Prue and Piper had left her; to kill the Source. But faced with the possibility that she might not be able to succeed without them, all she could think was that she had _never_ been without her big sisters. Prue, with her reprimands and inspiration, Piper with her comfort and insecurities. She just didn’t _know_ how to be Phoebe Halliwell without Prue and Piper.

She cried for what felt like hours, until she was dizzy with all the breath she was wasting on her sobs and had a dull headache from all the tension and tears. Even when she was sure she was out of breath, when she thought she must have cried every spare drop of water in her body, she’d gulp down a few breaths and hiccup her way back into sobbing.

After finally crying herself out, Phoebe found she didn’t have the energy to do anything. It was an awful place to be, but all the passion, all the anger that had driven her for the last few weeks seemed to have left her along with her tears, and all she had left was that old hollow ache she’d been trying so hard to evade. Cole didn’t try to get her moving again like last time. Instead, he wrapped her up in her stolen coat and lay her down with her head on his lap and his hand in her hair.

Phoebe knew he wanted her to sleep, but it seemed so far away. It was too much effort to close her eyes, too much effort to reach for sleep, and wasn’t that ridiculous. She was too tired to sleep. So she was still awake when Cole sighed, and said “And how are you doing?”

Leo snorted. “That’s a stupid question.”

“Fair.” Cole capitulated. “But you were falling apart before we set out on this mad quest, and I guess I’m just worried I’m going to be cried on twice today.” He quipped. Phoebe wondered if she ought to feel annoyed about his flippancy, but that seemed like such a silly thing, really, so she let it go. She knew he didn’t mean it that way, after all.

Leo didn’t answer that. Instead, he said; “I understand how she feels.”

“Mm?” Cole hummed, prompting.

“This whole thing…” Leo paused, then huffed a bitter laugh. “ _Living_ , it just feels so… so pointless now. I mean, if- if we were in the mortal world, if we could… if Phoebe had people around her, and maybe she'd be job hunting, having her father around, taking care of the house… and if I had my work, my _charges_ , the Elders and my colleagues… maybe we’d be weathering this better, but… What’s the _point_ , Cole? We died right along with Prue and Piper, we just haven’t quite stopped breathing yet. There’s no way _out_ , there’s no _help_ coming, there’s nothing we can _do_.”

“Except fight, and now that’s looking just as hopeless as all the rest.” Cole sighed.

There was silence in the wake of that, and Phoebe wondered if she actually had it in her to shed a few more tears. She blinked and they rolled down over her nose and into her hair. Her chest hurt. Breathing was a chore. Her eyes wouldn’t stop leaking. She wished she could sleep, but instead she just lay there, existing and hating it.

“It’s been a month, Cole.” Leo finally said, drawing Phoebe reluctantly back out of her maudlin thoughts.

“Has it?” Cole asked, sounding vaguely surprised. “That long? Really?”

“I can feel it. A little over a month, actually. It was the… seventeeth? Sixteenth? Of May when… when everything happened, and I can feel the solstice approaching. Which means it’s nearly the twenty-first of June.” Leo explained dispassionately. Cole made a thoughtful noise, a little softer than a grunt, and stayed silent. “A whole month, and the Source still hasn’t lifted the seal.” Leo pressed.

“Actually, we should check that-”

“I already did, while Phoebe was…” Leo trailed off, not really needing to specify ‘while Phoebe was bawling her eyes out in your arms’. Phoebe felt a tiny twinge of embarrassment, anyway. It died swiftly, snuffed out by the grey haze of misery, and she closed her eyes. If she could just _sleep_ , then she might feel better when she woke. Or if she didn’t, it would still be a few hours away from the depressing reality.

“Right.” Cole agreed, but it was absent, distracted. “It’s nearly the solstice, you said?”

“Yes.” Phoebe could hear the frown in Leo’s voice, and she mirrored it.

“The Summer Solstice.” Cole pressed.

“Yes?”

“The holy day of Litha?”

“Yes…? Cole, what are you-?”

Cole’s next words were carried on a grin, one of the edged ones that Phoebe usually found unbearably attractive. “As in, the day when the powers of light are at their strongest, the great peak of all good magic before the reign of the Holly King slowly draws the world back into darkness? The day when any novice witch could tap into the forces of light, especially for use in transformation or purification, never mind a Charmed One? That solstice?”

Phoebe sat bolt upright to stare at Cole. He looked momentarily startled to find her awake, but then he smirked at her, one eyebrow quirked, all challenge and confidence and pride. Phoebe fought to catch her breath around the sudden surge of hope and passion and determination rising up inside her like the tide, marvelling at the gift Cole had just handed her. And he was still looking at her like that, just waiting for her to take it and run with it, and she didn’t think she’d ever loved him more than she did in that moment. She surged forwards and kissed him.

“You’re a _genius_!” She enthused against his lips, and then tore away from him to surge to her feet. Once she was up, however, she swayed, the dizzy spell taking her off guard. “Oh, wow, I think I… need to sit down.” She tried to sit gracefully, but mostly just crumpled, guided at the last moment by Cole’s hands on her waist.

“It’s not the Solstice yet, Phoebe.” Cole assured her, audibly restraining laughter. “Sleep, there’ll be time to plan when you wake up.”

Phoebe turned to look at Leo. “Will there?” She checked, because the idea of missing such a golden opportunity threatened to open up a black pit of despair right under her feet, and she wouldn’t be able to sleep at all if she wasn’t _sure_.

Leo closed his eyes as he focused on whatever supernatural sense allowed him to detect the coming and going of holy days. “Yeah, it’s probably still a day or even two off. I’ll be able to tell when it’ll be more accurately the closer we get to it.” He assured her, opened his eyes to offer her an attempt at a smile.

Phoebe smiled back, trying to give him some of her own relief and hope. He did seem a little less gloomy, so she allowed herself to settle back down, dragging Cole down with her so that she could pillow her head on his shoulder this time. He chuckled at her, but came willingly, and curled an arm around her without needing to be prompted.

Now, Phoebe found it ridiculously easy to slip into sleep, exhaustion weighing her down and dragging her off into unconsciousness. The strange sleeplessness of her breakdown was nothing but a bad memory, and when she woke, she felt stiff and sore all over and more than ready to face whatever came next.


	5. Chapter 5

Their preparations for the solstice were frantic. First, they had to find a spacious cave in which they could set up, which took time. Cole knew a lot of the underworld, but he didn’t know all of it, and there was as much walking to be done as shimmering or orbing. Eventually, they found one with a smooth floor and a few pillar-like formations around the edge, all made of a pale golden sandstone. Then, Phoebe sent Leo and Cole off to procure supplies, with promises that she would call for Leo the moment she even thought she might be in trouble, while she cleansed their chosen cave with the left over incense from their attempt to bind a poltergeist.

Whilst she worked, Cole and Leo reappeared periodically to deposit whatever supplies they’d managed to gather on that trip. Mostly, they were gathering as much oak and fir wood that they could find. After all, it wasn’t a proper Litha ritual without a bonfire. Then she needed white candles to set around the fire, burning for the goddess’s blessing and the invocation of light, and dried basil to mark a circle of protection around herself, and sage and mint incense to burn at the edges of the cave for the destruction and purification of evil energies.

This all took time to gather, since Cole didn’t want to get it all from the same market, and would steal some of it from dark priests where he could. White candles were particularly difficult to procure in the underworld, where white magic was synonymous with the enemy. They managed it, however, by raiding the stores of a particular demon who Cole knew secretly dabbled.

Then all they had to do was wait. And wait. Phoebe annoyed Leo by asking every few minutes how much longer it would be until the solstice. Cole interjected before Leo could bite her head off, sidling up behind Phoebe and wrapping his arms around her waist. “You probably want to think about when, exactly, on the solstice you want to try this.” He pointed out, propping his chin on the top of her head.

“Isn’t midday the most powerful time?” Phoebe asked.

“Yes, but dawn would work too.” Cole replied. “It might even be better, given that this spell is meant to be a triumph of light over dark. The symbolism has it’s own power.”

“That’s true.” Phoebe acknowledged, leaning back against Cole as she thought. “I think you’re right. Midday might be the most powerful time, but that’s because it’s when light is strongest. Light isn’t very strong down here even when it’s at it’s zenith, but using the symbolism of the dawn will have a strong effect, especially down here where there’s so much dark.

“I doubt I could get an accurate midday, anyway.” Leo interjected. Phoebe blinked at him, and Leo gave her a vaguely chiding look. “The solstice doesn’t happen _just_ over San Francisco, Phoebe. It’s worldwide, and midday in San Francisco is not midday in Cairo. I can tell you the first and last moments solstice sunlight hits the earth, but more than that, I can’t detect. And the Underworld doesn’t exactly match up with anywhere specific in the mortal world.”

Phoebe frowned. “Then… will the solstice have _any_ effect down here?”

“Oh, yes.” Cole assured her. “The power of the solstice isn’t in the physical reality of the earth’s tilt and spin and orbit. It’s in people’s belief. That’s why symbolism is so important in any ritual. Your imagination, your magic, gives it power when otherwise, it wouldn’t be anything more than a piece of crystal, a bit of dried plant, or scrap of paper.” Cole shrugged, and Phoebe squirmed against the jostling of his arms. “Down here, _everything_ is tied to belief. It’s not physical, it’s built on the power of the belief in evil and cruelty and death. You’re just bringing a bit of the belief in light down here when it’s most able to reach, when people will be believing most in light and the sun.”

“Huh. Okay. Then I guess that settles it, really. We’ll start when the solstice starts.” Phoebe decided. “Which is going to be when, exactly?”

Leo groaned, and Cole laughed. “Have a little patience. It’ll come.” Cole assured her.

“I’ll let you know the moment it starts.” Leo assured her.

Disgruntled, Phoebe settled in to wait, dragging Cole down to sit on the floor with her. Leo began to get restless a while later, pacing around their carefully constructed bonfire. Phoebe stayed in Cole’s arms and went over the spell she’d come up with while purifying the cave over and over again, refining and tweaking it, considering better rhymes, counting syllables to make it flow better.

Leo’s head came up, and he froze mid-step. Phoebe jolted to her feet even before he’d opened his mouth to say “It’s started.” Cole was on his feet a heartbeat later, and when Phoebe gestured towards the bonfire, he obeyed, shooting a tiny energy ball into the kindling at it’s heart. It burst into flames that slowly began to creep up and out, wrapping themselves lovingly around the larger chunks of oak and fir wood. At Phoebe’s nod, Leo went around the edges of the bonfire to light each of the candles with a touch. That power, it seemed, wasn’t as difficult as healing, which Phoebe was intensely grateful for. Most demons didn’t have a need for external ignition devices like matches or lighters, given that a good deal of them could summon fire with a thought, and Phoebe wouldn’t have had the first clue where to get one from down here.

Phoebe herself used the candles to light her incense, and set them up around the cave. There was already a thick layer of smoke from the fire gathering near the ceiling, and Phoebe was glad Cole had had the foresight to suggest a cave with a high roof. Phoebe took her place on one side of the bonfire, and waited for Leo and Cole to take their places, equidistant from her on either side of the bonfire, so they formed a triangle.

Phoebe went first to Cole, scattering basil around him and murmuring a quick blessing to strengthen it’s natural protective abilities. Then she did the same for Leo, and then she returned to her place and did the same around herself. With that, the stage was set. Phoebe could already feel the power building. The firelight danced on the cave walls, painting them yellow and orange, and occasionally Phoebe could swear they gleamed gold. The warm of the bonfire was surprisingly gentle against her face, and the scent of woodsmoke and incense filled her lungs and lifted her spirits.

“ _Mother Goddess, God of the Sun,_ ” Phoebe began to intone, and it hurt that hers was the only voice, when it should have been spoken by three. She missed her sisters so very much, but in their absence, she still wished that Leo and Cole could join in, and lend their strength to hers. However, they’d all agreed that it wouldn’t help, and might even hurt. They were not witches, they didn’t have the right magic for vanquishing spells, nor did either of them have the right to call on a witch’s goddess and gods. “ _And King of the mighty Oak tree, on this longest day now begun, to my altar I summon thee._ ”

The fire roared higher, and the candles flared. The space around them lightened, brightened, until everything in the cave seemed to glow with some inner light. The scent of wood and sage and crisp clean mint filled the air, and Phoebe shuddered at a surge of tingling warmth flooding through her.

“So mote it be.” Leo murmured. Phoebe shook her head and turned to stare at him.

Then she saw Cole begin to smile. “So mote it be.” He added, and Phoebe _felt_ the shift. The power she had summoned gripped firmer, settled heavier in the air, the ties that anchored it tripled and then tripled again in strength by the trio of souls willing it to stay.

“ _Mother Goddess, God of the Sun, and King of the mighty Oak tree,_ ” Phoebe repeated, because naming things had power, and doing it three times had yet more power still. She could feel the power building inside her, around her. It wasn’t hers, so it was anchored in the very fabric of the world around her, in the fire and the light and stone and the earth, but it was channelled through her, and she could feel it inside, waiting. “ _Darkness grows and evil has won, in my need I implore thee._ ”

“So mote it be.” Leo intoned.

“So mote it be.” Cole agreed.

The air seemed to vibrate, like a soundless gong had been struck. Phoebe knew she was projecting when she said it felt like anger, like rage, because magic didn’t do emotions like people did. But darkness was opposed to light, and light was opposed to dark. Light magic invoked on the Summer Solstice rejected the idea of darkness having power, of evil winning.

Now came the hard part. Phoebe took a deep, steadying breath, and focused herself. She set her intent firmly in mind, and spoke; “ _Strongest demons now roaming free, summon here to die before me. Those who in the Underworld lead, light reveal them so they may bleed._ ”

The bonfire expelled a sudden cloud of smoke that rolled over the three of them like a wave, thick and choking. It rushed out, all the way to the walls of the cave, where it crawled upwards, thinning, to join the smoke at the ceiling. In its wake were six bewildered demons. One was a huge muscled man with a face distorted by slashing scars and ornate silver rings on every finger like a rich man’s knuckleduster. Another was a small woman with short, wild, flame red hair, and beyond her a pale wraith of a man peering around over a pair of spectacles. Two more women took the space behind Cole, a dark-skinned woman with cornrows, and a beautiful curvaceous blonde. And on the periphery of Phoebe’s vision, an intimidatingly tall man with skin as black as night.

All of them were wearing gold robes, and all of them had black eyes from lid to lid, although in the light of the bonfire, they gleamed oddly. They caught up to the situation quickly, and several of them launched attacks, bolts and balls of energy and fire whipping towards the three standing around the bonfire. Leo and Cole both ducked, but Phoebe ignored them, trusting in her magic. Sure enough, the attacks fizzled out against the protective barriers she’d raised around the three of them. And the spell had been more than just a summoning. The longer they remained here, within the reach of Phoebe’s altar and in the presence of light and under the power of a spell designed to kill them and make them bleed, they suffered. A few of them cringed, the pale man actually staggered.

Phoebe opened her mouth to begin the last part of the spell, but some strange sense made her wait. There was another shuddering ripple of smoke expelled from the bonfire, and then another, and Phoebe noticed another demon among the rest. His cloak was closer to bronze than gold, a dark orange like rust, but his eyes were just as black as the rest’s. He was old, his face lined, but his hair was still black, and his posture straight. His lips pulled back in a sneer, and he summoned up an energy-ball to the palm of his hand. It flew straight for Phoebe, and in a flash, she saw it connecting, impacting right over her heart and consuming her in flame.

With a ragged gasp, she dropped out of the premonition and let the feeling of falling carry her down into a crouch. The energy-ball impacted the barrier, there was a flare of brilliant light, and then it flew over her head and into the fire. “Phoebe!” Cole shouted, alarmed, but Phoebe only waved a dismissive hand at him as she rose back to her feet and glared at this new demon. Another wave of smoke rolled out of the bonfire, and Phoebe wanted to wait, wanted to give it time to build up the power necessary to summon a demon as powerful as the Source, but she wasn’t sure she had the time.

The other demons were still attacking, too, although less and less frequently as the spell crippled them, energy-balls flying and dissipating against the shields. Which only made the red-robed demon’s attacks all the more dangerous, because unless Phoebe was watching him, she wouldn’t be able to tell which energy-ball would be the dangerous one. It stood to reason that any more demons that showed up would be as powerful or more powerful than that one, and she couldn’t watch two at the same time. She really couldn’t afford to wait.

“ _Mother Goddess, God of the Sun, and King of the mighty Oak tree!_ ” Phoebe shouted over the sound of explosions and snarling demons, then ducked another attack from the red-robed demon. “ _Light burn all and darkness shield none, on my foes I unleash thee!_ ”

The seven demons burst into flame. Howling, screeching, wailing they slapped at themselves and dropped to roll on the ground in an attempt to put the fires out, but they couldn’t. The flames clung and burned without regard for the laws of nature. Even the demon in the rust-red robes was screaming, but there, at least, the sound was more rage than pain, and Phoebe had to dodge another energy-ball.

“So mote it be!” Leo shouted. The flames burned higher, hiding the demons from sight entirely.

“So mote it be!” Cole echoed. The flames burned hotter, sending a wash of heat over Phoebe.

“So mote it be.” Phoebe proclaimed. The flames died, leaving behind only ash and silence.

The bonfire dwindled to embers, the cave walls went back to their dull sandy colour, and the smoke in the air turned thick and choking. Phoebe coughed into her sleeve, flapping her hand in front of her face. It wasn’t enough to obscure her vision, but it did make the outlines of Leo and Cole somewhat hazy. An effect only worsened by the way the shadows were creeping in again, eagerly taking up the space now that the intense powers of light were gone.

Cole loomed out of the haze, and Phoebe reached out for him, catching him around the waist as he pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m sorry you didn’t get the Source.” He offered, and Phoebe breathed out the crushing disappointment into his t-shirt.

“Oh, but you _did_.”

Phoebe tried to wrench around, but Cole was stronger, and he yanked her with him as he dove to the side. It was a good thing, too, because a moment later their bonfire was alight again, after an orb that looked more like an explosion contained by writhing shadows than a simple fire-ball sailed through the air Phoebe and Cole had been occupying to smash into the half-burned pile of wood. “Leo!” Cole barked, hurling an energy-ball out of Phoebe’s sight.

She didn’t need to see to know who that voice belonged to, though. A potent mix of rage and terror turned her thoughts to static, and she fisted a hand in Cole’s t-shirt as Leo orbed in right next to them and grabbed on as well.

“I don’t think so.” The Source commanded, and abruptly Cole was on his knees, teeth bared as a snarl of mingled pain and denial tore out of him. Phoebe went down with him, out of Leo’s hold, and Leo dove after them, only to have Cole writhe out of their reach. “Your cursed father may have infected you with a soul, but half of you is still _mine_ , Belthazor.” The Source crooned. Phoebe whipped around to glare up at him. His black, hooded robes obscured all his features but there was no denying that presence, that malevolence weighing down on Phoebe’s every breath.

The flashback was so strong, so vivid, that Phoebe almost assumed it was a premonition. She could see Cole’s caverns overlaid over the sandstone cave, she could see Cole’s altar instead of their bonfire, and Leo was crumpled on the floor, the breath knocked out of him from running into the Source’s seal, instead of kneeling over Cole looking wild with protective anger and helplessness. The Source had stepped into the cavern back then, and Phoebe had _known_ , had felt it sink right down through her from her throat, through her chest, and into her gut.

They’d been played. The Source had never had any intention of letting her or Cole warn her sisters about Shax. They would be helpless, and there’d be no one coming to help. Phoebe had stared into the shadows underneath that black cowl, and couldn’t even manage to be scared for her own life. All she could think of was Prue and Piper, alone up there with _no help coming_. Leo was shouting for Piper, half sobbing, half choking, and the Source _laughed_.

He’d lifted a hand, claws gleaming in the candle-light, just like they were doing now, and Cole had thrown himself at Phoebe, taking the energy-ball that had been meant to kill her in the side and hurling them both on top of Leo. Phoebe had heard the Source shout “No!” and then the world had dissolved into a heat-haze and reformed into a different cave.

But Cole was down for the count this time, and the Source wasn’t conjuring an energy-ball. Instead, he clenched his claws hand into a fist and twisted in the air, and Cole cried out, a ragged yell that petered off into a hoarse snarl, and then rumbled back up as a furious growl. The Source laughed again, and Phoebe’s paralysing fear became incandescent rage.

In one fluid move, Phoebe stepped from huddled on her knees, to one knee, to coming up onto her foot and twisting to swing the other in a perfect high-kick into the Source’s wrist. There was an audible crack as her heel connected, and the Source jerked backwards with a snarl that was at least partially pain, even if most of it was just outrage and offended pride. “You stay away from him, you sick son of a bitch.” Phoebe spat, raising her fists before her and standing ready.

“Insolent witch!” The Source snarled back, and then laughed again. It was less gloating than before, but no less disturbing. “Belthazor, kill her!” He ordered.

Phoebe snorted at him, but before the witty come back could fall from her lips, there was a low growl from behind her, and Leo’s voice, wobbling just a little as he said “Uh… Cole…?” Phoebe looked behind her. She had to, despite all her instincts that were screaming how much of a bad idea it was to take her eyes off the Source, because it was _Cole_.

Except it wasn’t. It was Belthazor. No laughing hazel eyes, no chiselled jawline, no well trimmed frame, just raw muscle under blood-red skin and black markings around black eyes. And there was no humanity in those eyes, just bloodlust and the thrill of the hunt. “Cole?” Phoebe breathed, heart seizing in her chest and then thundering into double-time.

Belthazor rumbled a laugh, and lunged. Phoebe ducked and spun out of reach. That had the added bonus of letting her keep both Belthazor and the Source in view. Belthazor advanced on her again, faster than most demons his size without the bonus of super-speed, and Phoebe spun into a round-house kick that slammed into his palm instead of his jaw. His hand closed on her ankle, tight enough to make her yelp, and he swung her around towards the fire.

Leo leapt up and caught her before she could tumble face-first into the flames. The word became nothing but white light for a breath, and then the same scene reappeared. For a moment, Phoebe thought they hadn’t gone anywhere, but then she realised they were on the other side of the fire. She was glad Leo hadn’t need to be told not to leave Cole behind in the clutches of the Source.

She could hear him roaring, and _now_ she heard distress in the sound. “COLE!” She shouted.

“Ph-Phoebe?” Came the desperate reply, though still in Belthazor’s low rumble. And then a snarl, vicious and violent, but Phoebe couldn’t tell if it was directed at her or not. “No!” Belthazor shouted, and Phoebe _needed_ to know what was happening to him. She tore herself out of Leo’s grasp and darted back around the fire. She saw Belthazor standing hunched with his head cradled in his hands, and the Source with his hood turned towards him.

“You are becoming a _pest_ , Belthazor.” The Source decided furiously.

“No.” Cole said, and his appearance flicked, shifting too rapidly for Phoebe to see one side of him or the other most of the time, and then finally, he settled back into his human shape, and lifted his head to glare at the Source. “I’m not your servant anymore, and I _never_ will be again.” He declared.

“Then you shall die.” The Source proclaimed, and raised his hand.

Phoebe was moving before she’d fully realised what was happening. She flung herself forwards, and hit Cole’s chest just as the energy-ball hit her back. She screamed as she and Cole were blasted off their feet and flung across the cave. Cole slammed into the ground with a grunt, and Phoebe slammed into him with a muffled whimper. Rasping in a desperate gasp for air, Cole managed to get out a choked “Phoe-” before his winded lungs protested, and he wheezed something that might have been an attempt at a cough.

“ _Ow_?” Phoebe managed, blinking away tears of pain and trying to strangle the scream that was building in her throat. Her entire back felt like it was on fire, and for all she knew it might be. Distantly, she had to marvel at the fact that she was alive. An energy-ball to the back ought to have been fatal. “Cole? Are you okay?”

“ _Me_?!” Cole wheezed in disbelief. And then he abruptly rolled them. Phoebe’s back hit the ground and she did scream, high and agonised. “Sorry, sorry.” Cole murmured, and hauled Phoebe to her feet with ruthless determination. “LEO!” He shouted, anger masking his desperation. Then he was dragging Phoebe out of the path of another of those strange shadow-bound explosion-balls that lived up to its name by exploding violently when it hit the wall just over their heads and sent them stumbling. “Leo, damn it! It’s time to go!”

“No! I _have you_ now, I won’t let you-!” The Source began, firing off more energy-balls and explosion-balls and fire-balls, arms whipping through the air almost too fast to see as he hurled them at them. Phoebe could barely move through the pain, but she managed to keep up with Cole has he dragged her out of danger and around to the other side of the fire again.

They crashed into Leo coming the other way, and Phoebe sagged against _someone_ , she wasn’t sure who, as the world dissolved. White light filled her vision, and then darkness.

When she came to, she found her face smushed into a rock. In fact, her whole front was smushed into the rocks, her breasts pinioned awkwardly under the weight of her chest, and her back throbbing dully in the stagnant air.

Wait.

Phoebe reassessed.

Yes, she was naked from the waist up, but her jacket was spread out on the floor under her. Any thoughts she’d had about sitting up were put on momentary pause as she tried to work out what was going on. “Cole?” She called warily.

“He’s sleeping.” Leo informed her. “Don’t try to move, your shoulder’s pretty badly damaged.”

“Jus’ m’shoul’er?” Phoebe slurred.

“Yes, luckily.” Leo informed her, somewhat terse. “What were you thinking, jumping in front of an energy-ball like that?!” He went on, clearly in a fully-fledged over-worked healer rant. “You could have been _killed_ , Phoebe! And Cole is _half demon_ , he had a much better chance of surviving than you did! He could have dodged, he could have deflected, he could have done something much more sensible than throwing himself in front of it like a suicidal _maniac_!”

“I can’t lose anyone else to him, Leo.” Phoebe said quietly, blinking back tears. “I can’t.”

Leo didn’t reply for a moment. Phoebe liked to think he was wearing that poleaxed look he sometimes got when someone sideswiped him when he was trying to be the responsible one. Then she heard him swallow. “Neither can I.” He whispered.

Well. Ouch.

“I-… M’sorry.” Phoebe managed, even though it was only half true.

Leo cleared his throat. “If you’re really sorry, then don’t do it again.” He chided her. “Now hold still while I check your wound. Does it still hurt?”

“Yes. Less, now.”

“You’ve been out for a good while. The solstice has been over for at least a few hours.” Leo informed her, and she felt him press his fingers around the edge of the patch on her back that felt like one big pool of pain. He pressed and pulled her skin taut, and then daubed something on the flayed-feeling meat of her shoulder. She whined, high and pained, in the back of her throat. “Sorry, it’s just a tincture to numb the pain and hopefully help prevent infection.”

Phoebe blinked stupidly at the rock in front of her face. “Where’d you get that?” She managed to ask, even though it came out tight and high with the pain she couldn’t fully repress..

“Oh, I had Cole go and steal some things. Herbs, mortar and pestle, rags for bandages and such.” Leo explained absently. “We couldn’t leave you with a burn the size of my hand across your back and just hope it healed well enough on its own.” He pointed out, maybe a little huffily. And then his hands paused in their work. Phoebe whined again, because she wanted the torture to be over faster, not paused in the middle. Leo resumed his work. “I’m… I’m sorry, too.” He said finally.

“Wh’for?” Phoebe asked, face screwed up in annoyed confusion.

“I can’t heal this for you. I should-” Leo began, then bit off the rest of that without finishing. Even though she couldn’t see his face, Phoebe could feel the self-recrimination rolling off him in waves. She snorted at him.

“Leo.” She began, lifting her head up to make sure her words came through clearly, even though it pulled at her newest wound and hurt like hell. Leo made a startled little noise, and splayed a hand on her back to steady her as he diligently kept working. “Leo, you _are_ healing me.” She pointed out.

That got Leo to stop again. “What?” He asked, vulnerable and bewildered. “No, I’m not, I’m just-”

“Just… cleaning the wound, and administering local anaesthetic and antiseptic, and then you’re going to bandage it up and tell me not to move my arm too much or lift anything heavy for a while until it’s had a chance to _heal_ , right?”

“I… Right…” Leo stammered, still not quite catching on.

“Leo.” Phoebe said again, impatient. She twisted her head to the other side, and finally got a look at his face. His eyebrows were all crumpled up in the middle of his forehead, his eyes wide and confused, his mouth still set in that stupid little pout that meant he was beating himself up. “ _That’s what doctors do_.”

Leo blinked at her, opened his mouth, and found he had nothing to say. He dropped his gaze to his hands, and the burn on Phoebe’s shoulder. “I saw injuries a bit like this during the war.” He said, sounding surprised by the revelation. “Soldiers who’d been a bit too close to a bomb going off. I suppose treating you in a cave is better than in the mud.”

“I thought mud was supposed to have healing properties, or a dozen spas have lied to me.” Phoebe quipped brightly, letting herself settle back down again as Leo got back to work.

“Wrong sort of mud.” Leo informed her dryly, which made Phoebe grin a little. The moment of levity faded quickly, as the memories of why she was injured in the first place crept insidiously back. The Source had been right there, and all she’d been able to do was delay until Cole and Leo could pull it together enough to rescue her. But this time, at least, she had the knowledge that there may just be another option just around the corner, so instead of sinking into despair, she just let the hatred and the slow-burning rage fill her up until the hollow in her chest was bubbling over.

Leo finished with her wound, and wandered off a little way to do something with the rag he’d been using, Phoebe supposed. “If you don’t mind lying still for a while, we should leave that open to the air, so it can breathe.” Leo informed her, and Phoebe grunted in acknowledgement. “Thank you.” Leo added, which startled Phoebe.

“What for?”

“Reminding me that I’m… not useless, even if I have lost my powers.” He paused, then offered her a tired smile that in no way reached his eyes. “I think I can keep going as long as you can, now. So, you know, thank you.” Phoebe really didn’t like the subtext she could hear under those words, that if she died, Leo would probably follow her within the week. There was a guilt trip there, but she refused to think about it, and just settled in to try and go back to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

It turned out that Cole had been less ‘sleeping’ and more ‘unconscious after Leo dosed him with improvised painkillers’. Phoebe wasn’t the only one with a massive burn on her back, although where Phoebe was fairly sure that with a patch, her jacket would be salvageable, Cole’s t-shirt had been completely destroyed. Not that Phoebe objected to seeing Cole shirtless, but the circumstances weren’t exactly ideal. And, well, her sex drive had been all but absent this last month, so the sight didn’t affect her like it normally would.

It also turned out that Cole was several orders of magnitude more unhappy with her than Leo was, so it was probably a good thing that she didn’t feel like eyeing him up too much while he lectured her. “What you did wasn’t just reckless, it was _stupid_.” Cole informed her, eyes hard and voice sharp. Phoebe pressed her lips together to hold back the sassy remark, and considered the ceiling through her eyelashes, carefully not looking at Cole’s annoyed expression. “Do you even _care_ that you almost got yourself _killed_?!” Cole snapped, which was just another way of calling her a suicidal maniac.

But unlike Leo, Cole wasn’t willing to accept that it had been, maybe, a little bit suicidal, and be satisfied with telling her that. He was actually waiting for a response. “Of course I care! But I care about you _more_!” Phoebe informed him irritably.

“Well, you shouldn’t.” Cole bit out.

Phoebe blinked at him, too offended for words. “If I shouldn’t, then neither should you. Don’t be a hypocrite, Cole, it’s not attractive.”

“I’m not being a hypocrite.” Cole retorted, glaring at her. “I’m _saying_ you shouldn’t needlessly throw your life away to protect me! I need to be able to trust you to take care of yourself.”

“I can take care of myself!”

“Obviously not!” Cole exclaimed, gesturing violently towards her wounded shoulder. It was her left one, which meant both her arms were now injured and had a limited range of movement. She hadn’t noticed under the agony of her new wound, but her broken arm must have been jostled in the fight, despite the splint, because it was aching, too. When Phoebe didn’t have a retort for Cole, he softened a little. “I’m just asking you to stop throwing yourself at things that could kill you without a plan. Is that too much to ask?” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his forehead.

“Yes.” Phoebe replied. Cole dropped his hand to gape at her. “I’m not going to stop hunting the Source, Cole. I might not know how yet, but I’m going to kill him, and I’m not going to stop trying just because the last few plans blew up in our faces. We can _do this_ , we just have to keep trying.” She insisted, reaching out and catching hold of his hand, silently begging him to understand.

Cole wordlessly shook his head, and Phoebe jerked backwards to glare at him. “I’m not saying it’s impossible.” He forestalled her, lifting the hand she wasn’t clinging to in the universal gesture for ‘stop’. “But Phoebe, the Source has been in power for… longer than I’ve been alive. Hundreds of years. And no one’s killed him yet. Yes, we came up with some decent plans, but they _didn’t work_ , and every time we try, we’re just increasing the odds that someone – that you – might _die_.”

“So be it!” Phoebe shouted, letting go of Cole’s hand to get to her feet and pace. She couldn’t sit still for this, not with the rage and desperation churning in her gut and making her feel ill. “If I die killing the Source, then _fine_ , square deal, I’m in!”

“ _This_ is what I mean!” Cole shouted back, also getting to his feet and glaring at her from the advantage of his height. “You have to stop thinking like this! Like you’re expendable! Because you’re not! And with this mindset, you’re _not_ going to kill the Source, you’re just going to die uselessly and give him everything he wants!”

“I _don’t care_!” Phoebe was aware that her voice was getting dangerously close to a scream, but she couldn’t help it. “I’m not going to stop fighting him with _everything I have_ , Cole, even if all I have is a bad spell and a few sticks of incense! There’s _nothing else_ , don’t you understand that?! If I’m not fighting, I _lie down and die_ , and I won’t give him that satisfaction! So if I’m going to die either way, I’ll go down spitting in his eye if that’s all I can do! There is nothing else!”

“There’s _me_!”

Phoebe jerked, her rage and despair halted in its tracks. She gaped helplessly at Cole, suddenly hurting too much to bear. “That’s… that’s not fair.” She said quietly, wrapping her arms around her middle, toying with the hem of her badly patched top.

“I know.” Cole replied, looking away, and then looking back at her firmly. “But I mean it. Why do you think I’ve gone on this long? It’s all been for you, Phoebe. My entire life has been destroyed, and the only thing I have left worth anything in this world is you. And now you’re trying to kill yourself?” Cole smiled, grim and darkly amused. “No, I’m not going to fight fair. I’ll _never_ fight fair when that much is at stake.”

Phoebe threw her arms in the air, and immediately regretted it. “Okay, fine. If that’s how you keep going, then _good_ , I’m _glad_ , but maybe this life of running and hiding and running again is okay for you, Cole, as long as I’m alive, but I need more than that! Obviously I love you, _obviously_ I don’t want you to die, I think I’ve proved that, lately, but if I’m going to keep living for _you_ , then I need more than a life on the run!” She turned away from him to pace again, suddenly overwhelmed by how much everything _hurt_.

“If there’s anything I can do-” Cole began, and she felt his hand settle on the shoulder that wasn’t burnt. She turned to face him again, studying his face and _hating_ how earnest he looked. She knew, she’d always kind of known, that Cole would give her the universe and every last star in it, if he could, if she asked, but to see that willingness, and know that it was impossible… That just about killed her, because it was _all her own damned fault_ she couldn’t have it.

If she’d just been a little bit smarter, if Leo had left just a little bit sooner, if she’d _realised_ that of course the Source was going to double-cross them, because it was _so obvious_ , then maybe, right now, she and Cole would be in the manor. She could picture it, the two of them, naked in bed, lazy and satisfied and happy, talking about their future together, with the whole world in front of them and better things waiting just around the corner.

“Cole.” Phoebe sighed, pressing her hands to her face. “What about _any_ of this says stable situation to you?”

“It doesn’t need to be stable for us to love each other.” Cole retorted, looking bewildered. He tried for a smile. “I think we’ve proved that already, a few times over.” He quipped, and Phoebe snorted, but her heart wasn’t in it.

“I need more than that.” Phoebe repeated.

“What more _is there_?” Cole wondered, almost hurt.

Phoebe didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to get into it. She didn’t want to spill out all her dreams and stupid wishes, because it was like wishing for the stars. It was a lovely thought, very pretty and poetic, but it was worse than just impossible, and so far away it was laughable. “I need _all of you_.” She said, and when Cole opened his mouth, undoubtedly to tell her than she had him, all of him, she cut him off. “I need a _future_ with you, Cole. I need something we can build _together_ , you and me. I mean-” She laughed, a little hysterically. “It’s not like we can get _married_ down here. And kids! Cole, is there a _worse_ situation to bring kids into? Because if there is, I can’t think of one!” Phoebe immediately wanted to take the words back, but she couldn’t. “I _can’t_ live just for you Cole, because all I want is what we _could have had_ , and that- I can’t survive like that.”

She peeked up at Cole, feeling raw and flayed all over, not just her shoulder. She hurt, and her heart was fluttering dangerously in her chest, shivering and threatening to fall and shatter at the slightest touch. She tried to read the expression on Cole’s face, but all she could see was shock, as though she’d completely blind-sided him with all that talk of things they couldn’t have. She swallowed, and looked down.

It seemed so cruel, to burden him with those thoughts of everything that was out of reach for them, when it turned out it hadn’t even occurred to him before. She wished she could take it back, swallow the words back down and pretend like the thought of losing that opportunity, of never getting to live that life, never getting to meet their kids, wasn’t tearing her apart inside. Yet another grief to add to her long and growing list.

“Are you saying you want to marry me?” Cole asked.

Phoebe’s head jerked up, too shocked to process. There was a wondering, almost boyish smile on Cole’s face, and mischief twinkling in his eyes, and Phoebe was caught between elation that he seemed to want that too, and despair that he was treating it so lightly when it wasn’t possible. “I-… Well, yes. Of course I do-” She began.

“Of course?” Cole echoed, and for a moment he looked like he was in agony. “Phoebe, the last time we actually _talked_ about our relationship, I nearly strangled you.” He reminded her.

“You were under the influence of an evil roofie.” Phoebe pointed out. Cole’s lips twitched, and she smiled back for a moment, before dropping his gaze and swallowing hard. “Just… just imagine, for a moment, that that whole mess with the Brotherhood hadn’t happened. I had just graduated from college, finally, you were going to have your powers stripped so you could be mortal with me. Do you… do you really think, after everything we’d done for each other, everything you’d be giving up for me, that I wouldn’t want to marry you?” Cole opened his mouth, but no words came out, and Phoebe tried to smile, even though she was starting to cry. “Cole, what we have, this is the forever kind of love. I- Of course I want all of that with you, but I don’t- I don’t see _how_ we could-”

Cole pulled her into a gentle hug, mindful of both their injuries. Phoebe pressed her face into his chest and cried. At first she was crying for their lost future, and then she realised that in any wedding she imagined, Prue and Piper were there, to support her, to celebrate with her, and that was another lost future, and she was crying for them, too.

It didn’t last long, though, and soon enough her tears dried up. She drew back and wiped her eyes on the backs of her hands, sniffling. “Some day, I’m going to ask you.” Cole told her, and she jerked her head up to blink at him dumbly. Cole smiled back, looking near radiant with love. “One day, I’m going to get down on one knee and ask you to marry me.”

Phoebe smiled, wobbly and wet, but sincere. “Okay.” She agreed softly, and leaned up to kiss him. Cole kissed back with aching tenderness, hands coming up to press just his fingertips to her cheeks, like she was delicate and fragile, and he didn’t want to grip too tightly in case he broke her. In that moment, Phoebe kind of appreciated it.

When Cole drew back, it wasn’t very far, and she could taste his next words on the air between them. “In the meantime, I’m not trying to say you can’t have multiple goals. I think killing the Source is a fantastic idea, but we need to be _smart_ about it.” Phoebe sighed, and nodded. “It’s not going to be something we can do with a cobbled together plan in a couple of weeks. We need to get organised, gather resources, find boltholes and somewhere to work from. We need to chip away at his support, find ways to limit his power, take our time and do this _right_.”

“You’re right.” Phoebe agreed. “It’s just…”

“Not nearly as satisfying, I know.” Cole agreed wryly. “It will be in the long run, though.” Phoebe nodded again, and forced herself to think carefully about what they were going to do. “And it’s not like we’re fumbling about in the dark. I can remember a couple of attempted coups just from my own lifetime, and the stories of a dozen more from before my time. We can learn from their mistakes.”

Phoebe went very still. Cole matched her a beat later, before humming a sound of confusion and concern. Looking up at him, Phoebe tried to organise the sudden spill of ideas that had just flooded her mind. “You say there have been attempts on the Source before.” She said slowly. Cole nodded, waiting for her to get to the point. “Did they _all_ die?” She probed carefully.

Cole’s eyes widened. “…No.” He said slowly. “Not all of them. But most of the ones who weren’t were banished to the mortal world. I don’t know if there’d be anyone down here who would help… but there might be. It’s not impossible to sneak around the Underworld even if you’re not supposed to be there, after all.”

“Well, then, there’s our next plan.” Phoebe decided, nodding to herself. “A hideout, resources, and allies. And… actually, I do have some ideas for traps. Like the siderite crystals Prue once-” Phoebe felt the grief wash over her, and she faltered. Cole kissed her forehead, and she pulled herself together and pushed the grief aside on sheer force of will. “They can be magically charged, and then we just leave them somewhere demons frequent, and the next one to step into it gets fried. That way, we don’t even have to be there when it goes off. Far less chance of setting ourselves on fire that way.”

“Smart.” Cole murmured.

“Smartass.” Phoebe retorted, slapping him lightly on the chest. “That is if we can even get siderite crystals down here. I’m pretty sure they’re mostly only used in white magic.”

“We can keep an eye out while we’re snooping.” Cole offered, and Phoebe nodded.

Then Leo returned from his little jaunt out into the Underworld to gather more supplies for painkillers and antiseptics. He insisted on checking both their wounds again, and Phoebe got her first proper look at Cole’s back. It was a mess of mottled burns. Some were just shiny and pink, but others were raw and oozing and looked extremely painful. Leo covered them both in the paste he mixed up, almost to excess. When Phoebe complained, Leo had pointed out that with how much dirt they’d accumulated in their clothes and on their skin, a bit of extra antiseptic wouldn’t hurt.

“So… is running water a thing we can find down here?” Phoebe asked. “And if so, are there any places with it that we could make into our base of operations? Because now that Leo’s mentioned it, I _really_ want a bath.”

Cole frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe… Most places with water have already been staked out, though. It is pretty rare. But… I doubt even the Source knows all the nooks and crannies. The Underworld grows by itself, and the architecture can be… flexible.” He acknowledged.

That was what they did first. Leo wanted Phoebe and Cole to stay resting for another few days, but Phoebe refused, and Cole didn’t fight her on it. She thought he was even maybe a little relieved. He didn’t handle sitting still any better than she did. So Cole shimmered them to some of the furthest reaches of the underworld, into the twisting caverns and tunnels that most demons hadn’t gotten around to looking at yet, and probably didn’t care to.

“I’m surprised there aren’t more… skulkers around in places like this.” Phoebe remarked as they wandered through eerie caves full of strange shadows and odd sounds. They even found a few places with open sky, although the sky they saw off the edges of cliffs or through great chasms in the ceiling varied dramatically from one place to the next. Once it was bruise-purple, another time it was a hazy orange tinged with green, another it was the night’s sky with a nebula scrawled across it.

Phoebe stopped to stare at that last one, feeling suddenly, inexplicably, homesick. “I never thought I’d see anything beautiful down here.” She breathed.

Cole gave her a look that _hurt_ , it was so pained and sympathetic and weary. “Evil can be exceptionally beautiful.” He acknowledged, returning his own gaze to the sky above. “How else could it seduce so many people?”

After a small age, Phoebe tore her gaze away, and they moved on. Eventually they found a cave with a deep, slow-moving river in it. The waters appeared pitch black, but when Phoebe cupped some in her hands, it was crystal clear. “Right.” Phoebe said, getting to her feet. She looked around the cave with it’s surprisingly smooth stone floor and the jagged teeth of stalagmites and stalactites around the walls and protecting the entrance tunnel, and nodded. “Home sweet home.” She decided, and promptly started taking her clothes off.

“Um… I’ll… go have a look around.” Leo said awkwardly, and fled.

Phoebe slipped into the cold water, and immediately started shivering, but she didn’t care. She just sat in the shallows, on the little ledge of dark stone before it dropped away into the depths, and started scrubbing. Clouds of dirt wafted off her skin, only to be slowly tugged away by the current. A splash alerted her to the fact Cole was joining her, and then she had a warm body wrapped around her, which did help with some of the chill. “I never thought I’d ever be grateful for a cold bath, but-” Phoebe began, entirely light-hearted, until she was hit with the memory of her and her sisters’ _many_ fights over who got the hot water in the morning. With all three of them _and_ Grams getting ready for the day at the same time, the hot water ran out fast.

Cole nudged the side of her head with his own. “So, we have a lair now.”

Phoebe really, really loved him. So very much. “Resources and allies next.”

“Furniture.” Cole interjected. “Something at least semi-soft to lie on. Maybe a chair.”

Phoebe gave a mock gasp. “A _chair_? Luxury!”

Cole gave an over-dramatic, wistful sigh better suited to the heroine of a trashy romance novel, and Phoebe cracked up, snickering helplessly. “An altar for your spell-work would also help.” Cole pointed out, when she calmed down a little.

A few last little giggles, and Phoebe cleared her throat and managed to say in a somewhat serious tone; “And maybe one for you, too. You had one in your apartment, before. And you talked about those dark rituals, so you obviously know some black magic.”

“I shouldn’t-”

“Cole, I appreciate the sentiment, I really do, but I think the time for moral gestures is a bit past, don’t you? We need every weapon we can find, forge, or steal if we’re actually going to make a serious attempt to kill the Source, and benching one of our best fighters because his methods are a bit distasteful sounds like a really bad idea. Besides, we’re going to be working with demons, if we can find any who hate the Source as much as we do. I’m going to have to get used to that eventually. Why not with you, someone I know I can trust?”

“Last time-”

“I know, but I’m pretty sure we can both agree that neither of us behaved very well then.” Phoebe interrupted again. “I’m… sorry about that, by the way.” She managed to say, even though it was hard. She wasn’t the best at apologising, but she was pretty damn sure he deserved one for the way she’d just given up on him when he’d been all but begging her for help. “I’m…” She paused to laugh, when a memory that didn’t cause her too much grief came back to her. “I was once told by cupid himself that I’m terrified of love. I didn’t want to admit it, but I think he was right.”

“A cupid?” Cole made it sound more disgusting than if Phoebe had said ‘a two-headed venomous slug’. Phoebe wanted to laugh, but bit the inside of her cheek to keep it back when he started talking again. No need to interrupt any more fodder he might hand her. “Well, they’re always pretentious assholes, so you should take anything he said with a pinch of salt, and a healthy dose of scepticism.”

“Don’t be rude, he was nice.” She teased.

Cole growled unhappily, and Phoebe had to admit she felt warmed through by how petulantly territorial he was being. “Sure he was nice. They’re all so _nice_.” Cole mocked, but then he sobered, and murmured softly; “But you think he was right?”

“Well, Mom died before I could remember her at all, Dad left before I was born, and Grams was never exactly the affectionate type. She loved us, but she showed it mostly through lectures and sass. Most of my childhood nightmares were that Grams was going to leave too, because I just wasn’t good enough.” Phoebe admitted wryly.

“I’m not leaving. Not unless you ask me to go.” Cole told her solemnly.

“I think I’m finally getting that, yeah.” Phoebe agreed, turning her head to kiss him.

They stayed in the water until even shared body heat couldn’t keep the shivers at bay, and once they got out, Phoebe was intensely grateful that Cole had thought to give their clothes a quick wash while they were in there, because even though they were damp and chilled, they were _clean_ , and the thought of putting dry but dirty clothes back on wasn’t pleasant. Cole shimmered out briefly to fetch firewood, and set it alight with a small energy-ball, and they huddled close to it’s warmth, and continued discussing their plans until Leo got back, at which point they looped him into the conversation too.

“You probably want a table to work at, too.” Phoebe realised. “What with all the poultices and such you’re going to want to mix.”

“I can do without.” Leo replied. “The floor works just as well, but you need at least something to put on the floor to mark out the boundaries of an altar if you want to give your spells the focus they need. Your table is more important.”

“I guess.” Phoebe hedged, because keeping them alive and in fighting condition was pretty important too. “And then I suppose we better get to stockpiling some supplies. That could take a while, given that some of the stuff for white magic is going to be impossible to find down here.”

“Well, we can multitask. It’s going to take a while to ferret out rumours of any demons potentially sympathetic to our cause.” Cole pointed out. “Searching for both at once is a sensible conservation of effort.”

“The supplies are going to be easier.” Leo predicted.

Cole nodded acceptingly. “Well, yes. Even as rare as white magic is down here, some people are weird enough to dabble. I still know a few from my own rebellious teenager phase, so we at least have a place to _start._ ”

Phoebe bit her lip and raised her eyebrows at Cole. “Rebellious teenager phase?”

Cole gave her a mysterious smile, and changed the subject. “On the other hand, any demon who has designs on the Source’s throne is going to be _quiet_ about it. If _we_ could find rumours, the Source probably could too, so we’re going to have to be really sneaky and guess a lot. It’s going to be pretty dangerous.”

It occurred to Phoebe to press on the rebellious teenager thing, and if things had been normal, she might have done. She would have done, she would have teased and cajoled until he shared those details about himself. But now, she couldn’t quite find the levity, couldn’t dismiss the serious topic in favour of playing, even for a moment. They _needed_ to come up with a good plan, the sooner the better, because this was going to take long enough as it was.

“We have an advantage there, though.” She pointed out, and ignored the look Cole threw her. “No one’s going to suspect _us_ of being the Source’s double-agents sent to discover and destroy them.”

“You, perhaps.” Cole acknowledged. “Me? They will absolutely suspect. It’s entirely possible that the story of my turning on the Source for love of a witch is a lie, a misdirection, a ruse, or some other way for the Source to root out rebellion.”

“Really? They’d think it was made up?” Phoebe was incredulous. “After you murdered the triad and went on the run for half a year?”

“The Source has always resented the Triad, and the Brotherhood has always been powerful but insular. I’m not saying everyone, or even _many_ demons would believe that my defection was planned by the Source so I could kill anyone who came to me to ally against him. There were rumours last time I was in the marketplace, that Raynor was dead because he’d been turning the Brotherhood against the Source in a bid to take over.” Cole sighed, looking vaguely wistful. “I almost wish it had been true. With the Brotherhood, we might have had a real chance.”

Phoebe and Leo just stared at him. Leo just looked a little sceptical, but Phoebe could feel her jaw hanging slack, but she didn’t quite have the presence of mind to close it. Cole looked between their faces, and grimaced. “Don’t worry.” He said, trying to laugh it off. “I’m not going to try and _actually_ sway what’s left of the Brotherhood. They’d never go for it.”

“Are you sure?” Leo asked thoughtfully. Cole turned to him in shock, and Leo shrugged. “You said the Brotherhood always put itself first. If you could sell it that the Source had turned on them, wouldn’t they fight to protect their own?”

Cole shrugged, looking dubious. “Well, sure, but we’d need proof, and I couldn’t deliver it. I’ve already tricked them once, they wouldn’t believe me.” He huffed an amused laugh. “I’m not even a member anymore, so they have even less reason to listen to a word I say.”

“Not a member?” Leo queried. “I thought it was a lifelong commitment?”

“Normally it is.” Cole agreed, then smiled too light-heartedly for his cheer to be entirely sincere. “But didn’t you wonder why a potion made of my blood – the blood shared by all the Brotherhood – didn’t kill me?” He prompted, and Leo’s expression flashed to understanding, only to crumple into agony. Cole’s expression fell, and he moved on. “I had an alchemist transmute my blood. Unless I renewed my blood-oath, I’m not a member of the Brotherhood of the Thorn anymore.”

“Which I’m glad about, but can we just _rewind_ for a second?!” Phoebe finally managed to find her voice, and she injected herself into the conversation perhaps a little more shrilly than normal. “You _killed_ Raynor?!”

Cole seemed startled by that line of questioning. “Yes?”

“When was that?!” Phoebe yelped.

“Uh…” Cole pulled a face as he thought back, wrestling with his memory. “After-” He cleared his throat awkwardly, side-eyed Phoebe warily, and then said, tentatively; “After Jenna, and you-” He stopped, shrugged, and Phoebe grimaced but nodded to encourage him to go on. “Raynor was holding my father hostage, so I killed him.”

Phoebe’s whole body jolted with shock, and she gaped at Cole, words lost again in complete confusion. It was Leo who asked the question burning through her mind. “Your _father_? Cole! If you’d _told us_ that he-”

Cole held up his hands. “Ah, no. That’s not-”

“Your father was mortal, and he died a hundred years ago.” Phoebe stated, but despite her lack of inflection, it was absolutely a question. A lot of questions, all rolled up into one loaded statement.

Cole nodded, not denying it, which let Phoebe relax a little, although the confusion was still intense. “Yes, and… Well, I was there when my mother-” He cut himself off sharply, and Phoebe winced, because she’d had a vision of that, but it had never quite dawned on her what that must have been like for _Cole_ to witness. His mother murdering his father right in front of him. She didn’t know how old he’d been, but it couldn’t have been older than eight or so.

Reaching over, Phoebe covered his hand with hers. “I know.” Phoebe whispered, and going by the look on Cole’s face, he understood everything she was trying to say.

He managed a rueful little smile as he continued. “I was six-” That answered that question, at least. “-and I was… upset. And I had just been introduced to black magic.” Phoebe thought she could tell where this was going. “I tried to summon him, but while a white witch’s séance is like a long-distance phone call to the other side, black magic is never so benign. I accidentally trapped him in a small crystal ball.”

Phoebe winced. “Ouch.” She breathed in sympathy.

“It gets worse.” Cole assured her with dark humour.

“Your mother found out.” Phoebe guessed.

“My mother found out. She was _not_ pleased. She took the crystal off me, and told me she’d destroyed it, lectured me about useless sentiment and not getting attached to your tools, they can always be replaced, etcetera and so forth.” Cole waved a hand in the air.

“But she really kept it?”

Cole shrugged. “She must have. At the time, I had no idea. When she was vanquished, his soul ended up with the Triad. I worked for the Source, you see, and he had no interest in going after you once you thwarted the Four Horsemen. He’d decided to just work around you, keep most of his agents away from San Francisco, problem solved. But the Triad had other ideas. They promised me my father’s soul, if I killed you.” He explained, clearly uncomfortable revealing so much.

Phoebe’s hand drifted to cover her mouth, belatedly realising just how much Cole had given up for love of her. “Cole…” She breathed.

Cole waved a hand, dismissing her sympathy. “Well, I killed them, and couldn’t find his soul, and gave up, but… somehow Raynor got his hands on it, and tried to manipulate me with it. After you’d given up on me, I was too angry and half out of my mind to really… make a _plan_. I killed him, my mentor and once friend, for the last remnants of the soul of a man I can barely remember. I figured, if I was already evil with no hope of redemption, what did it matter?”

Phoebe stared at him. Then, just to check she wasn’t imagining things, she looked at Leo, and found him already staring at her, looking just as bewildered as she felt. “That… doesn’t sound very evil, Cole.” Leo said dubiously. Cole squinted at him, confused right back.

“You killed evil to save an innocent soul, regardless of the pain it caused yourself. That’s… Cole, that’s what good _does_.” Phoebe explained patiently, offering him a tired smile. Cole opened his mouth, looking entirely ready to argue, only to stop, to falter, as realisation sank in. He raised a hand to rub at his eyes, and let out a small, bitter laugh. Phoebe scooted over enough to throw an arm around his shoulders. “See? Even when you’re _trying_ to be evil, you can’t help but do good.” She proclaimed, in a light, cheery, almost childish voice of forced cheer. Cole tipped sideways with a more sincere, helpless laugh to rest his head against hers, and Phoebe sighed softly, wishing everything could be that easy to solve.


	7. Chapter 7

Time passed in that strange monotonous way it did in the underworld, and Phoebe threw herself into her work. She was almost never alone, given that she was the only one among them who couldn’t teleport in the blink of an eye, but a lot of the time she barely noticed. After they’d managed to gather a few bits and pieces like blankets, new clothes to replace their ruined ones by killing minor demons and taking their stuff, they set about trying to acquire things to trade for more valuable things, for a given notion of valuable, anyway.

Cole disappeared to make his own investigations sometimes, and once or twice he took Phoebe or Leo along when he wanted to be more overt in his questioning about loyalties. No significant leads had turned up yet, but when Phoebe expressed her frustration, Cole only reminded her that it wasn’t going to happen over night.

Phoebe distracted herself by finally getting to trade for a proper altar. She went for a waist-high table that she would have to stand at, because the low-slung one for kneeling at reminded her too much of home, and just _looking_ at it sent her into a spiral of _lost lost lost…_ Thus, the taller table, and a few black candles and other supplies to go with it. Setting it up was a good way to keep her hands busy and her mind focused. Not that it was anything that she needed to think hard about, but an altar always worked better if it was prepared with the proper reverence.

Cole was out on one of his investigations, which also helped sooth some of Phoebe’s impatience, and Leo was meditating in the corner, perhaps trying to commune with Up There, which would be impossible, but that probably wouldn’t stop him from trying, or trying to reconnect with his powers, which would be useful if he could, so Phoebe wouldn’t begrudge him the effort.

Setting up an altar wasn’t complicated, but Phoebe had been a practising witch for three years, and while when she’d been starting out, it had been enough to throw a few candles in a circle and say a chant, now she had preferences. It annoyed her if the incense holder was on the left instead of the right, not to mention she was used to working with the massive Warren Book of Shadows, so she was now having to readjust her set up so that she _wasn’t_ leaving plenty of space for her reference material. She lit three of the candles, even though black wasn’t the most ideal colour for a white witch’s altar, and arranged them in a triangle at the top of the altar, leaving space in front of her as a place to work, whether that would be mixing herbs or writing spells or anything else.

She would need to talk to the other two about getting a cauldron. She doubted she’d be able to get all the ingredients for a real potion, but a small one for burning things other than incense in would be extremely useful. She was just considering perhaps asking for some chalk to draw pentagrams and triquetras on the altar with, when a shift in the air made her turn.

There was a trio of female demons, all clad in black leather, with dusky skin and wild hair, standing on the banks of the river. One flung a hand up, and Phoebe threw herself out of the way of the bolt of purplish-white energy that flew through the air like a dart. It hit her brand new altar, and half the top exploded, while the rest started to burn raggedly. Candles went flying to clatter dully against stone, and Phoebe cursed. “I just got that set up!” She whined.

Leo was now on his feet, but his sword was out of reach, leaning against the wall of the cave, and he wasn’t quite ready to take his eyes off the demons. The three of them smirked in unison, and they attacked. Two headed for Phoebe, while one lunged for Leo, whipping bolts of energy at him in rapid-fire succession. Phoebe let her body dodge on autopilot, her brain occupied with trying to work out if she could remember this type of demon from the Book of Shadows, or if she could identify them without needing that, and how she might vanquish them.

“Leo?” She called, then had to throw herself flat to the floor to avoid a barrage of bolts. She rolled to avoid one of the demons’ stomp-kicks, and lurched upright again to keep herself mobile.

“Busy!” Leo snarled back, physically wrestling with his opponent.

“What are they?!” Phoebe asked anyway, kicking one of the demons in the chin and sending her sprawling backwards, and then spinning to drive her elbow into the gut of the other one as she tried to sneak up on her. An idea dawned, and she cocked her head, listening hard to the demon behind her scrambling back to her feet as she watched the one in front straighten from her hunched protective posture. “What are you?” She asked the demon, as if that might get her an answer.

Predictably, the demon only smirked. Phoebe edged sideways, trying to match what she could hear of the movements of the one behind her. She heard a faint cracking noise behind her, and flung herself to the side, crashing into the wall with her burned shoulder which made her hiss between her teeth, but was at least better than landing on her broken arm. The bolt that had been aimed at her back hit the other demon instead, and for a moment, her wide-eyed shocked expression remained frozen, and then she exploded fairly dramatically.

“No!” Her ally shrieked, enraged. “You pathetic little _witch_!”

Phoebe raised her eyebrows incredulously, but pushed away from the wall and into a diving roll to keep from going the same way as the other demon. “Leo, seriously! What are we dealing with?” Phoebe asked, sliding into the forest of stalagmites around the edge of their cave. The demon followed her, flinging bolts after her but always only catching stone instead of flesh.

“I don’t know!” Leo shouted back. “I’m not a demonic encyclopedia!”

Phoebe puffed out her cheeks in irritation, then ducked behind another stalagmite as the demon advanced on her again. “So, just out of curiosity, how did you find us?” Phoebe asked, aiming for a conversational tone from behind her cover.

“As if I would tell you that.” The demon replied mockingly. “If you hold still, I promise to kill you quickly, though. Trust me, it’s a better fate than what awaits you if you get taken alive, and the Source _really_ wants you alive now.”

“I’ll bet.” Phoebe agreed. The demon rounded the stalagmite, and Phoebe darted between two more and behind a third, leading her pursuer on a halting chase around the edge of the cavern. “He must be really mad at me right now.” Phoebe added, leaning back against a stalagmite and trying to catch her breath, tracking the demon more by sound than sight. “I mean, I’ve escaped him twice now? He can’t even catch one witch on his own territory? I’m making him look pretty pathetic.”

“You have _no idea_ , little witch.” The demon replied, and that was closer than Phoebe had thought, damn it. She peeked out around the stalagmite, and immediately retracted her head as an energy bolt nearly singed her nose off. She heard rapid, irregular footsteps as the demon darted towards her, and she flung herself away from her stalagmite just as claws screeched across stone level with her throat. Phoebe turned to face her, but didn’t stop backing away. “Do you have any idea what you _did_?” The demon demanded, stalking after her.

“Uh… I’ve done a lot of things lately, you might want to be a bit more specific?” Phoebe prompted.

“That Solstice ritual of yours.” The demon spat. “The entire underworld felt its pull.” Phoebe didn’t respond, still waiting for more of an explanation. “And then the _entire_ Lower Circle of the Council vanishes? There isn’t a demon in the underworld who can’t put the pieces together. Everyone knows you vanquished them.” The demon ranted, prowling closer all the while.

Phoebe took yet another step backwards, and cold water splashed over the back of her trainer and up over her ankle. She glanced behind her at the black glassy surface of the river, and then back at the demon. “Did he lose face?” She mocked. “Can’t even protect his own Council, what sort of ultimate evil _is_ he, anyway?”

The demon snarled at her, and flung another energy-bolt. Phoebe danced sideways rather than backwards, not eager to soak her trainers in ice cold water unless she had to. “They were some of our greatest leaders! Centuries old, _millennia_ , and you _destroyed them_!” The demon exclaimed, and forwent her distance attacks to lunge at Phoebe with claws out.

Phoebe braced herself, and let the demon slam into her, although she grabbed her wrists before she could actually claw Phoebe’s eyes out. They tumbled backwards into the icy water with a massive splash, and Phoebe’s head went under for a brief moment. She held her breath, and bucked, using her legs and hips, which weren’t so encumbered by the water, to hurl the demon to the side. She followed, still holding her wrists, and flung her whole weight down on the demon’s torso.

The demon flailed and bucked with supernatural strength, but Phoebe had fought demons stronger, and she knew how to pin someone to keep them down, even if they were bigger than her. The demon lifted her head out of the water with a gasp and a choking snarl, but Phoebe just snarled right back. She forced the demon’s hands down against her shoulders, and then leaned on them hard, forcing the demon’s head back under the water.

She held her there, struggling against every writhe and twist, until her muscles were burning and her breath was ragged, and then, finally, the struggles started to turn jerky and sluggish. Then they stopped. Phoebe didn’t dare let go for another two minutes, head bowed and shivers starting to wrack her frame and goosebumps pimping every inch of her skin. It wasn’t until a hand touched her shoulder that she moved, whipping around and bringing her hands up to defend herself, only to find Leo standing there, sword in hand and a very tired expression on his face.

“I think she’s dead.” Leo pointed out gently.

Phoebe blinked, then looked down at the body she was still straddling. “I don’t think so. She hasn’t gone poof.” She pointed out.

“Then let me.” Leo raised the sword to indicate what he meant. “You can’t sit there all day, you’ll catch hypothermia.” Reluctantly acknowledging his point, Phoebe forced her cold-stiff muscles to move, and stood, staggering away from the demon and then just standing there, watching, as Leo drove the sword down into the demon’s chest, and she finally did dissolve into a light cloud of ash that started to drift lazily downstream.

A stronger shiver shook through her, and Phoebe tore her eyes away. Reluctantly, she went over to her brand new altar, now useless, and started breaking it down to build a fire to warm herself up. Coaxing the embers still smouldering in the wood into a proper little fire was difficult, but she managed in eventually, and stripped off her wet clothes to sit as close as she dared in her underwear.

Leo laid out her clothes for her so that they would dry along with her, and then sat down behind her, shielding her back from the cold air, which was nice of him. “We need to ward this place.” Phoebe informed him tiredly.

“That sounds like a good idea.” Leo agreed.

“I’m not sure how to do it in a way that’ll let Cole inside, but not any other demons.”

“You should ask him. Demons ward their lairs against other demons all the time, so they must have some way of differentiating.”

“Oh, right. Good.” Phoebe sighed, and then propped her arms on her knees so she could lower her head onto them. “I miss the Book of Shadows.” She mused before she could stop herself. It was such a banal thing to say. She missed far more than just the Book, but right now, that was the thing on her mind. “I don’t suppose I could summon it down here?”

“…Maybe you could.” Leo replied, sounding surprised by the idea. “We have no idea if the Source’s seal stops travel both ways, or if it just stops anyone from _leaving_. It’d be a good way to check.”

Phoebe nodded, and spent the next few minutes composing the spell in her head. Once she was pretty sure she had something that would work, she shifted to sit cross-legged, held her arms out flat in front of her with her palms up and recited; “ _Warren witches who came before, and left to me a tome of lore, your wisdom now I beg of thee, heed the call send it back to me._ ”

She waited with her heart in her throat for the comforting weight of the old book, but nothing happened. With a small pained noise, she dropped her head back to knock into Leo’s. “Sorry.” Leo offered, sounding thoroughly exhausted. Phoebe just made another small noise, this one of denial. He had nothing to be sorry for, after all, it wasn’t _his_ fault. Her determination to kill the Source rose up in her again, and she breathed through the burning rage it kindled. Slowly it ebbed again, but it left her feeling strangely less tired than she had been after the fight.

That was about the same time that Cole reappeared. He shimmered in, took one look at Phoebe in her underwear sitting in front of the fire, the still-scattered candles and the conspicuously absent altar, and put things together fairly quickly. “What happened?” He asked, hurrying over to drop to his knees beside Phoebe, eyes tracking over her, searching for injuries.

“Demons attacked, we kicked their asses.” Phoebe replied. “Actually, I don’t suppose you could ID them for me? They were all women, dark-skinned, wearing leather, quite pretty, and their hair was all…” Phoebe gestured like an explosion around her head. “Black claws, shot energy-bolts like little purple-white lasers.”

Cole frowned a little. “They sound like harpies.”

“Oh, of course.” Leo sighed.

“Harpies shouldn’t be able to track us.” Cole added, looking deeply frustrated. “We should probably move again, see if we can shake them off.”

“Can’t we try and ward this place, instead?” Phoebe asked. “Surely there’s some way to keep other demons out without stopping you from getting in and out as you please? If I just ward against demons with a spell, it would probably block you as well.”

“And it would be noticeable as white magic.” Cole agreed. “The only thing I can think of is blood wards. And those… those are pretty dark.” He warned her, as though he thought she’d balk and tell him no, they’d just have to put up with demons knowing where they were sleeping.

“Cole, we’ve talked about this.” Phoebe reminded him.

Cole nodded and held out a hand to her. “Alright, I’ll teach you how to set up a blood ward.”

Phoebe took his hand and let him pull her up. She was warm and mostly dry, and although her clothes were a little bit damp, she threw them back on anyway. Cole took them both to collect the supplies, which was a frustratingly long task. They needed a plain athame with no curse or enchantment on it, lamb’s blood, a silver bowl, clean cloths, and several powdered herbs Phoebe was pretty sure were poisonous. They also needed a black candle, but they already had one of those.

When they got back, Cole set everything up a little way away from the fire, close to the bank of the river, and had Leo light the candle with a touch. “First,” he explained as he worked and Phoebe peered over his shoulder, “we have to consecrate the blade in the blood of an innocent.”

“Lamb’s blood?” Phoebe questioned dubiously.

“When making blood wards, it’s best to use a blade that has never before touched human or demonic – or angelic – blood.” Cole explained. “Because even the smallest trace could give that person access to wherever you’re trying to protect. And demons have learned the hard way that you don’t use a dead innocent’s blood if you don’t want to invite a vengeful ghost into your lair.” Phoebe remembered how much havoc her ghost friend had caused, when she got upset, and couldn’t help but smirk at the thought.

“So the lamb’s blood is symbolic.” Phoebe realised.

“Lambs have been a symbol of innocence for a very long time, after all.” Cole agreed. He spoke several incantations over the blade while it was coated in lamb’s blood, strange little chants in Latin that Phoebe actually rather liked the sound of. Or maybe she just liked Cole’s voice, and she appreciated it more when she didn’t get distracted by the meaning of the words he was using. Then he washed the blade in the river, and held it over the candle and spoke more incantations.

“Fire for cleansing.” Phoebe guessed.

Cole nodded. “The principles are fairly similar to white magic, I’ve found.” He agreed. “Now, we take blood from the back of the left forearm of all those who will be powering the ward. We’ll need a decent amount of blood from all of us, since we number just three.” He tapped the knife against the bowl. “This needs to be about half full, I think.”

Phoebe looked at the bowl, and winced. It was a small bowl, about the same size as her own hands cupped together, but the only other time she’d used blood in a ritual, they’d only needed a drop. “A drop isn’t enough?” She asked, not really expecting the answer she wanted, but having to ask anyway.

Cole shook his head. “When we key the wards on who to let in, then all we’ll need is a drop, for identification. But this is power, and that means we need enough to tell the magic within what to do. It’s ink, more or less, and we need enough for all five anchor sigils and the heart sigil.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Phoebe acknowledged. “The only time I’ve ever used blood in magic, we only need a drop each, but those were just for identification, I think.” Leo and Cole both stared at her, shocked. “What?” Phoebe asked.

“You’ve used blood magic before?” Leo asked, sounding horrified.

“Not-” Phoebe stopped, and actually thought about it before she said ‘not really’, because it wasn’t like she knew what separated blood magic from magic that just happened to use a little bit of blood. “I don’t know. We- There was this one time where we brought Melinda Warren back for a while, and it took a drop of blood from each of us?” She paused and gestured at Leo. “You met her, actually, and quoted Shakespeare at her, back when you were still pretending to be a handyman.”

Leo’s mouth dropped open. “That was…?”

“After I found out you were a whitelighter, I’d assumed you knew.” Phoebe said, questioning.

Leo shook his head. “No, I had no idea… I mean, I figured she was there to help you with something magical, but I thought she was a witch from another coven. If I’d known you’d been doing blood magic, I would have had to report it, and…” He grimaced.

“ _They_ wouldn’t have liked it, huh?” Phoebe asked wryly. Leo just shook his head emphatically.

“It sounds like a blood-to-blood summoning.” Cole interjected.

“Yeah, that’s what it was called.” Phoebe confirmed as the phrase jogged her memory.

Cole shook his head in disbelief. “That’s not just blood magic, it’s _necromancy_. I imagine if the saintly Elders knew that was in your Book of Shadows, they’d try to destroy it, and probably you along with it.” He announced with a chilly kind of disapproval.

“Why are they so against blood magic?” Phoebe wondered.

“Because it’s dark. It’s an inherently selfish form of magic.” Leo explained. “The blood represents the self, the soul. To have someone’s blood is to have power over them. That’s why the really powerful demons often need a potion made with their blood to vanquish. Because by taking their blood, you’re taking control of their life. To use your own blood will draw all benefit of the spell you cast to yourself. That’s why blood wards can be so very powerful.”

“Exactly.” Cole agreed. Then he gestured for Phoebe’s arm, which she presented, only remembering at the last moment that he’d specified left. He flicker her an amused glance, which shifted to apologetic as he caught hold of her elbow to steady her and drew the athame lightly across the back of her arm. Blood immediately welled up and began to drip. Cole swiftly and efficiently swapped dagger for cup, and slid it under the cut just before the first drop could fall. It landed in the silver cup with a near silent splat, and more followed.

“Why the left arm specifically?” Phoebe asked, to distracted herself from the pain in her arm.

“Right hand holds the sword, left arm bears the shield.” Cole replied. “In general. Left handed practitioners will often switch which side they use, but some don’t, believing the power of belief from the masses outweighs their own bias.”

Phoebe wrinkled her nose. “That seems like a bad attitude to have when practising any sort of magic. ‘Other people have more power than me’? How would _anyone_ get any spells to work thinking like that?” She wondered.

“I never said they were _successful_ practitioners.” Cole replied, holding back a laugh.

Once there was enough of Phoebe’s blood in the bowl, Cole offered her one of the clean cloths, and gestured for Leo’s arm. He offered it up with a resigned expression, and Cole made the cut and held up the bowl to catch the spilled blood. He repeated the process again on himself, until the bowl was half full. Then he added the powdered herbs one at a time, stirring them in with a finger. “Now, we draw the anchor sigils.” He announced, rising to his feet. “They need to be at the perimeter of the area you want protected, so on the walls of any dwelling.”

Phoebe and Leo got to their feet as well. “You said five anchor seals.” Leo remembered. “I thought there were only four, usually.”

“In the mortal world, the anchor sigils usually correspond to the cardinal directions. North, West, South, and East.” Cole explained as he led them to the entrance to the only tunnel leading into their cavern. “You draw them widdershins, to increase their potency, to symbolise the fight against the status quo. But down here, we don’t have directions like that, so we use a pentagram as our base.” He reached up to begin finger-painting a mark in blood above the mouth of the tunnel.

“There must be meaning behind the sigil.” Phoebe announced, although it was truly a question.

“The point for the self, the hearth, the anchor.” Cole began, indicating the mark he’d already made, before drawing a careful circle around it. “The circle for protection.” Phoebe nodded, because she knew that one. Cole went on to draw an arch above them. “The shield for defence.”

“Is there a difference between the two?” Phoebe wondered. “Or does it just amplify the magic to have both?”

“Using the shield over the circle will always amplify the shield, but there are subtle differences.” Cole explained, pausing in his work to gesture at the two components. “The circle is whole, complete, within itself. It is… passive, I guess, a simple barrier to either contain or repel. The shield is directional, and therefore it is actively repelling, without containing. It’ll direct the flow of harmful magic away from us, so by adding it here, and by making the circle a support for it, it will allow us to attack someone outside the barrier without breaking it, while their attacks will be halted, even sometimes reflected.”

Phoebe nodded to show she understood. “Clever.”

Cole looked pleased, but he shook his head. “It’s a simple warding sigil.” He denied, and then went back to the sigil, adding two lines coming down and out from the central point, though not quite touching it. “These are just for simple amplification, the beacon to amplify and the triangle to balance.” He added a horizontal line that crossed through both diagonal lines underneath the circle, and then another, shorter horizontal line that didn’t quite touch the diagonals. “And those are grounding, binding the warding to this place, this earth and stone, this dwelling.” He lowered his arm and took a step back, studying the sigil for a moment, before nodding, and glancing down at the bowl in his hand.

“Do we have enough?” Phoebe asked, with her own glance at the cloth she’d wrapped around her injured arm. Cole nodded, and glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the cave. Phoebe followed his look, and tried to see what he was looking for. “Where are we going to put the next sigil?”

“We’re drawing a pentagram.” Cole reminded her, prompted her, really, with one eyebrow quirking up as though to ask her where she thought they were going to put the next one.

Phoebe drew in a steadying breath, and scanned the cave. From the entrance, the river oozed out of a hollow gaping mouth in the wall towards the back on her left, with a low enough roof that Phoebe wouldn’t expect to get even a small dingy through. In fact, if she went for a swim, she’d probably bump her head on the small protruding stalactites trying to get under there. The river itself made a remarkably straight course through the cave, sliding out of view under the ground where the floor of the cave began to slope up and it had carved out a channel for itself, which formed a sort of bridge over to the other side of the river – a fairly small space though it was, especially with the small collection of stalagmites growing near the wall – before the angle became to steep to be called the ‘floor’ anymore.

On the other side of the cavern was where most of the stalagmite forest was clustered, ranged along most of the wall, but filling a larger space than it looked like from outside. Between the two was the wide open space the three of them had decided to occupy, although from her chase through the stalagmites before, Phoebe would wager that the actual center of the cavern was right on the edge of the stone forest, because while the shadows made the wall appear as if it was close, the cavern bulged out there, and that space was filled with stone pillars and almost-pillars where the stalagmites and stalactites were growing together.

“I’d put the next one above the mouth of the river.” Phoebe decided, but then realised that Cole had been studying the right side of the cavern, instead of the left. “No, wait…” She said, before Cole could tell her that she was wrong. She frowned at the cave, trying to figure it out. The answer, when it came to her, was annoyingly simple. “Except we have to draw it widdershins, not deosil. Anti-clockwise, not clockwise, so…” She re-examined the cave, trying to remember where the wall behind the stone forest actually was, not where it appeared to go. “Um… just behind that little stalagmite there.” She said, pointing to the one she meant, right on the edge of the forest.

“I think so, too.” Cole agreed, and they trooped over so Cole could draw the sigil. Then they headed over to the bridge at the end of the river, and Cole climbed up the slope as far as he could to draw the sigil on the wall. From there came the most difficult one to place, as they had to weave their way into the depths of the stalagmites, and their perception of where they were in relation to the other sigils got thrown off. But if they didn’t extend the shield to the very walls in every direction, it was entirely possible for someone to shimmer or blink into the cave in the narrow gap between sigil and wall, and they might not be able to get past the sigil by magical means, but that wouldn’t stop them using more mundane tools to destroy the sigil and break the wards.

Eventually they agreed on where to place that one, and then they struggled to work out how Cole could place the ward neatly over the mouth of the river when it was too wide for him to just reach over and draw on the arch. Phoebe eyed the river, then the arch, then the distance from the edge. “Does it have to be you who draws it?” She asked him.

Cole looked puzzled, but shook his head. “No. The magic is drawn from the blood itself, not the one drawing the sigil. As long as they’re all the same symbol, with the same meaning to the artist, the connection won’t be broken.”

“Okay. If I fall in, please don’t laugh at me.” She requested. Cole and Leo both looked dubious at this statement, and even more so when Phoebe backed away from the edge of the river. Then she took a running start, and jumped out over the river. She hit the peak of her jump, and began to fall towards the water. Her heart thundering in her ears, she waited until the last moment before reaching for her magic, and letting it catch her and wrench her out of gravity’s grasp.

She rose up a few inches, and hung there suspended. Laying a hand on the cave wall, she used that leverage to turn herself to face Leo and Cole standing on the bank with a winning smile. “About here, right?” She drummed her fingers against the wall under her hand.

Cole smirked at her. “Catch.” He suggested, and gave the bowl of blood a light toss. Phoebe squeaked in alarm and stretched out a hand to grab it. She fumbled, it tilted, she tightened her grip, and it steadied. Phoebe watched it intently for any sign that it was about to fall as she caught her breath and let her heart slow.

“ _Cole!_ ” She reprimanded. Cole grinned unrepentantly.

Huffing, Phoebe gave the rest of the cavern an assessing look, before turning her attention to the stone wall beside her. She had to stretch a little to reach the mid-way point between the two sigils next to this one, but not too far, so she dipped her finger into the blood to begin drawing the sigil. She nearly dropped the bowl again the moment her finger touched the blood, because it was still _warm_. Almost hot, actually, like the perfect temperature for a bubble bath. After the amount of time it had been sitting in the air, it should have been cold and possibly beginning to congeal. Instead it was warm and fluid and oddly pleasant.

Phoebe couldn’t decide if the swooping feeling in her gut was exultation or disgust. She swallowed it down, whatever it was, and drew the sigil. The center, the circle, the shield, the beacon, and the anchor. One after the other, she marked them out, keeping her hand steady and slow, just like she’d seen Cole do it, making sure to get them just right, and to hold the meaning of each and how they came together to form the whole firm in her mind as she drew.

Then she was done. She sighed in relief, and turned towards the bank, only to realise she hadn’t thought about how to get down. Hers was the power of levitation, not flight. She could rise up in the air, but once there she couldn’t move herself anywhere except further up or back down. “Um…” She began.

Cole laughed at her, and she stuck her tongue out at him. She’d solved the problem they had, after all, it wasn’t her fault the only solution she’d been able to think of hadn’t been _perfect_. “Hold still.” Leo instructed, sounding more tired than amused, but maybe both. Then he orbed out. The glimmer of white lights he dissolved into didn’t fade, however. Instead, they moved, swooping towards Phoebe and catching her up. The world vanished behind them, and when it reformed, she was back on the bank with Cole, Leo’s arm around her shoulders.

“Thanks.” Phoebe offered, then handed the bowl of blood and herbs back to Cole. He took it with a carefully questioning look that Phoebe ignored. She didn’t want to think about what she’d felt when she’d touched the blood, so she wasn’t going to. “You said there’s just the heart sigil left, now?”

“Yes.” Cole confirmed. “It can be anywhere within the bounds of the ward itself, but it wants to be hidden. If this gets destroyed, the ward will fail. It’s the mark that tells it what it’s purpose is, who it’s meant to protect, so without it, it will go dormant.”

“In the forest, then.” Phoebe replied, gesturing to indicate the stalagmites.

They searched for a while for an ideal spot, and finally, Leo found a stalactite that had fallen and shattered both itself and it’s matching stalagmite, the shards mostly held between a small cluster of bigger, stronger stalagmites. “If we draw the sigil under one of the bigger pieces, we can put the rubble back on top, and unless someone’s actively moving every rock to find it, they won’t see it.”

“Good idea.” Cole agreed. After a short debate, they agreed on which rock to hide it under, and Leo and Phoebe hefted it out of the way. Cole drew a simple pentagram, and around the outside he added little darts that pointed to each of the warding sigils. Then he withdrew the athame again. “Phoebe, left hand.” He requested, and when Phoebe held out her hand, he pricked her finger with the tip of the athame and squeezed one drop out onto the center of the pentagram. The moment the drop hit stone, the air shivered, and a ripple seemed to echo out from the heart sigil to the five anchors. They all flared with red light, and Phoebe _felt_ the sudden pull on her powers as the wards activated. Leo and Cole apparently did, too, because Leo gasped, and Cole looked smug.

The sigil itself dried abruptly, more like ink than blood normally would. The rock sitting on top of it wouldn’t scratch it off, Phoebe didn’t think, but it would still be too easy for a determined enemy to simply erase it if they got inside. Cole wordlessly added himself and Leo, one drop each in the center of the heart sigil, and the moment the drops hit the stone, they dried, barely splashing at all. They put the rock back on top, and Phoebe dusted her hands off on her trousers. “Is that it?” She checked.

“That’s it.” Cole confirmed. “We’re warded now.”


	8. Chapter 8

Blood magic was incredibly useful to a witch with no active power. Phoebe interrogated Cole for all his knowledge of sigils and their components and uses, and then she got to work laying traps all around the underworld. She wanted to set them _everywhere_ , but there were limits, like every kind of magic. Part of that limit was simply how much of her own blood she could spare at any given time. The ambient magic would replenish her reserves without need for food, but it took time, perhaps even longer than it might in the mortal world, given that her magic and her blood was being fed from the same source down here. Part of it was also that she had to be careful not to have too many ready at once, because if they were all activated at the same time, the drain on her own power might kill her.

But she could handle at least seven at once, so she drew lethal traps on ceilings in tunnels she knew upper level demons frequented. And every time one activated, and she felt the draw on her power, the dizzying rush, she’d get a disinterested Leo or an entertained Cole to take her out to set another somewhere else that an upper level demon might wander through.

The rest of her time she occupied with hunting low level demons personally, and collecting supplies now that they had somewhere permanent to stay. She did manage to get enough blankets for the three of them to form make-shift beds, and created a new altar for herself. She collected herbs and mixed magical poisons that she laced her daggers with, and potions the could mimic Piper’s explosive power.

Leo hated those. Phoebe understood, because every time the blast went off and the demon died, Phoebe remembered Piper, too. But she didn’t feel like she had many tears left to shed for her sisters. On the few occasions she cried, the tears were few and the urge faded quickly. The reminder was just a hollow ache, and only fed her determination. Leo, on the other hand, only seemed to fold inwards in his grief. Phoebe worried, but she wouldn’t keep from using any weapon she could make or steal just because it wasn’t comfortable to use. They were powerless enough as it was.

More often than not, Cole would head out by himself. He told Phoebe that he had found a few substantial leads, at last, and didn’t want to let the trails go cold. Phoebe wanted to hurry him up, but she knew that ferreting out rumours like that was subtle work, and wouldn’t show results any sooner for her haste, so she let him do whatever he thought was necessary, and redirected her impatient energy into hunting demons.

Sometimes she’d get Cole to drop her off somewhere, and call for Leo when she needed an out, but sometimes Leo would come with her, despite how much he didn’t like her methods. Phoebe never pushed him one way or the other, just let him deal with it his own way, but she had to admit she fought better with someone at her back.

The last demon present at the moment died under Phoebe’s knife, and she stepped back as he exploded into ash. “You good to keep going?” She asked Leo, looking over. He looked back, holding his sword in one hand and not even breathing hard, and nodded. Phoebe’s smile was a hard thing. “Come on.” She tipped her head towards the tunnel, and they set off down it.

On hearing a scuffle up ahead, Phoebe stilled and pressed herself back against the tunnel wall. Leo mimicked her, and they edged closer that way, doing their best to stay out of sight for as long as possible. When they got closer, Phoebe realised they were talking about _her_.

“We’ve got to _do_ something!”

“The deep tunnels just aren’t safe anymore!”

“There’s nothing we _can_ do, she’s too powerful!”

“She’s one witch! Someone just needs to get in a lucky shot!”

“Yeah!”

“I say we mob her and hope for the best!”

“That’s what everyone else has been doing, and see how that worked for them?!”

“We can’t just sit here and wait to die!”

“What is the Source _doing_ about her?!”

“Not enough!”

“Shut up you! Or do you want to die?!”

“I’m just _saying_ -”

There was a fwumph of sudden flame, a scream, and then silence.

“Anyone _else_ got anything to say about the Source?”

There was a bunch of mumbled ‘no’s like the demons were naughty schoolchildren, not powerful creatures of evil. Phoebe couldn’t help but grin to herself. She had no idea that her way of keeping herself from going insane while Cole worked on the real plan would have such benefits, but anything that sowed dissension on the ranks was fine by her.

“The _point_ is, we need to do something about the witch before she kills us all.”

“We could-”

“Well, well, well. _Here_ you are.”

Phoebe froze. That last voice hadn’t come from the cavern up ahead, but from behind her. She turned, and was stunned to see another trio of harpies standing in the tunnel, ranged in an arrow formation, all pretty and wild and viciously smug. The voices from the lair ahead had gone silent, and Phoebe cursed the loss of the element of surprise. “You again.” She snarled.

“Us again.” The harpy in the lead agreed, something cruel bleeding through under her light conversational tone and wide smile. “What _did_ you do with our sisters, by the way? I can’t believe either of _you_ vanquished them. The powerless witch and the healing pacifist.”

“Powerless?” Phoebe echoed, not sure if she was more offended or amused by that description. Offended, she decided after a moment, and she threw one of her potions. The explosion shook the tunnel, and brought down rubble on her own head, but it sent the harpies flying. They crashed into walls or the ceiling, and dropped to the floor with many grunts of pain. But they were still alive, which was not what Phoebe had been hoping for.

Then she heard a war cry go up behind her, and she cursed. “Do you want to run?” Leo asked, knocking his shoulder into hers.

“I don’t want the harpies following us.” Phoebe admitted grimly. “But I don’t seem to be able to kill them myself.” It was annoying to have to admit it, but even her most powerful potion only knocked them on their ass, and last time it had taken Leo and his sword to kill them, or their own energy-bolts. In a narrow tunnel like this, Phoebe didn’t think she could recreate that move. “You take the harpies, I’ll get the mob?” She gestured towards the sound of many running feet to indicate who she meant. Leo nodded shortly, and they turned back-to-back and readied themselves to fight.

It was the most dire fight they’d faced since the Source. Phoebe had almost begun to forget what it was like to face down evil with something precious at her back. So much of her life lately had been hunting it down and rooting it out herself, so she could afford to fall back and retreat if she needed to. But at the Summer Solstice, she’d had Cole wounded at her back, and now she had Leo, vulnerable to attack from behind, trusting her to keep him defended while he opened their way out.

This was how she’d fought with her sisters. When they’d had a life to occupy their spare time, and the only time they had to confront evil was when there was an innocent behind them and the balance of good and evil on the line. Phoebe refused to let the hurt overwhelm her, and she dragged up her rage and her defiance. Instead of focusing on her memories of her sisters, she forced herself to think of the Source and his laughter when he told them her sisters were dead. She forced herself to remember that these demons served him, killed to defend him, and so, they had to die.

“Phoebe!” Leo shouted, and Phoebe glanced over. He was standing alone in the tunnel, a burn on his wrist and scratches across his cheek, but three piles of ash smoking gently around his feet. “Let’s go.” It was a good suggestion, but Phoebe only had to think for a second of returning to their safe haven and sitting around uselessly to shake her head. She went back to killing demons.

A sword flashed in her peripheral vision. “We really ought to go.” Leo pointed out, taking another demon’s head off.

“No. We came here to kill these bastards, and I’m going to kill them.” Phoebe retorted, throwing a potion with one hand and stabbing a demon with the athame in the other. The tide of demons was beginning to falter, as they realised that they weren’t going to win by sheer force of numbers. Phoebe pressed ahead, driving them back into their lair.

An energy-bolt came sailing over the demons’ heads, aimed straight for Phoebe’s face. The only reason it didn’t kill her was because Leo slammed into her and orbed them to another set of tunnels. “Damn it!” Phoebe cursed. Then she glanced around. “Where are we?”

“You said you didn’t want to lead the harpies back to our lair. So I brought us somewhere else.” Leo reminded her, looking deeply annoyed.

“Oh, you have a lair. That would be why we couldn’t find you before now.” Leo and Phoebe both jumped and spun, to see a group of five harpies standing there. “How are you protecting it from our search? Is there some white witch trick to conceal yourself from evil?” The one in the center wondered, eyeing them both like she was wondering which part would be the most fun to cut off.

“Why would I tell you?” Phoebe retorted.

The harpy shrugged, and then they attacked. Energy-bolts flew, and Phoebe dove out of the way. Given that nothing she had could kill them, Phoebe resigned herself to keeping them distracted and watching Leo’s back. She threw potions and leapt in with her athame when one tried to close in on Leo while he was busy fighting one of the others. She had to keep moving constantly, to keep out of the way of the energy-bolts. She couldn’t always dodge completely, and she got singed a couple of times until her frustration mounted high enough that she decided she was done letting the harpies play target practice with her.

“ _Wind and storm were yours to wield, let them now become my shield._ ” Phoebe chanted, and immediately, a small whirlwind whipped up around her. The next energy-bolt flung in her direction was caught up and absorbed into the vortex, turning what had been a simple wind into a lightning-streaked storm. Phoebe’s vision was hindered, the whole cave distorted by the high-speed magical winds protecting her, but she did her best to keep herself between Leo and the two left that he wasn’t in the middle of fighting. Two others had already fallen to his sword.

Phoebe’s spell suddenly faltered, as she felt the tug and pull on her power that meant one of her traps had been activated. She couldn’t keep both up at once, so she let the shield fall. The harpies let out a cry of victory, and Leo used their distraction to take out two in quick succession. The one remaining faltered, stepping back, her eyes flicking between Leo with his sword and Phoebe with her potions. Leo lunged, and the harpy smoked out.

“ _Damn it_.” Phoebe said again.

“Can we go back _now_?” Leo asked pointedly, giving Phoebe a chiding look.

“Yes.” Phoebe huffed, holding out her hand. Leo took it, and orbed them back to their lair. Cole was waiting for them, and he took one look at their singed appearances, and raised his eyebrows in question. “We ran into harpies again.” Phoebe informed him.

“Twice.” Leo interjected. “Because Phoebe refused to retreat the first time.”

“Yes, I know I was being stupid and reckless, you don’t need to keep on about it, thank you.” Phoebe grumbled defensively. Then she changed the subject, before either Leo or Cole could respond. “So, how did your day go, honey?”

Cole snorted. “Fairly well.” He acknowledged. “It seems that a while ago, one of the Triad attempted to assassinate the Source, and got thrown out of the Triad for ‘treason’. He wasn’t killed, though, and the Source didn’t have the power to exile him before he was thrown out of the Triad, and couldn’t find him to banish him afterwards. Now I just need to track him down.”

“An _ex-Triad_ member?” Phoebe asked, delighted.

“I was surprised.” Cole acknowledged. “But the Source and the Triad have always been at odds with one another. They have common goals, and the Triad can’t really challenge the Source’s authority, but they’re… somewhat above his jurisdiction, as well. A law unto themselves. So there’s always been friction, but something as overt as an assassination… It’s good for us, though, so I’m not complaining.”

“No, this is great.” Phoebe agreed. “If he used to be part of the Triad, do you think he’d be able to match the Source’s power?”

“No.” Cole said at once, and Phoebe deflated. “The Triad’s power comes from their triumvirate. The whole is _far_ greater than the sum of its parts. The Source is the Source because he is _the_ strongest demon, the most powerful force for Evil in the Underworld. The only reason I managed to kill the triad was because I got one of them before they were expecting it. Then, their power was broken, and the other two were easy to take out. The Source is that strong by himself.”

“Oh. Well, he’s still got to be pretty powerful, right?” Phoebe asked hopefully.

“Yes. The Triad are usually demons elevated from the Council.” Cole explained, and when he caught Phoebe’s confused look, he elaborated. “The Infernal Council. You killed the Low Council at the Solstice. Then there’s the High Council, and then the Infernal Council themselves. The eighteen of them are the Source’s advisors and warlords. They’re also responsible for maintaining the Grimoire, inducting a new Source if and when the previous Source dies, and keeping magic concealed from the mortal world. Usually in that order, from Infernal, High, and then Low.”

“And their power levels?” Phoebe inquired.

Cole shrugged carelessly. “If I hadn’t defected, I expect I would have a seat on the new Low Council. My being a half-breed might prevent me, but that’s about how powerful they each are by themselves. The position itself allows them a power boost, though. The Council is three rings of six, so that’s a lot of symbolic evil energy being channelled through them.”

“Six-six-six, the number of the beast.” Phoebe muttered, rolling her eyes.

“I’ll let you know when I think I might know where Xar is. The ex-Triad member” Cole added when he remembered he hadn’t actually mentioned the demon’s name before. Phoebe nodded gratefully, and Cole smirked. “In the meantime, I found you this.” He offered, and tossed something at Phoebe.

She caught it, and then looked down at her cupped hands. There was a small golden yellow crystal in her hands, jagged and rough, but undeniably a magical crystal. “A siderite crystal!” She cheered, looking up at Cole, only to have to fumble to catch the bag he’d tossed at her. It clacked and clinked as she jostled it, and she was sure of what she’d see when she opened it before she did.

Sure enough, there were another four crystals tucked inside. Phoebe dropped the first one back in amongst its sisters, slipped the cord of the drawstring over her wrist, and then flung her arms around Cole. “Thank you! These might let us keep a demon alive long enough to ask questions!”

“Are you… really considering torture?” Leo asked tiredly.

Phoebe drew back to look at him in irritation. She also noticed that Cole looked a bit pitying. “Yes?” She asked, as if it should have been obvious.

“Phoebe, you can’t just-” Leo began, sounding utterly exhausted.

“I can’t _what_ , Leo?!” She demanded, losing her temper more suddenly than she had since she’d been a teenager. “Have I not made myself clear enough this last month? I’m going to do _whatever it takes_ to kill the Source. I will kill demons with my own bare hands. I will cast any and all blood magic I need to. And yes, I will _torture demons_ until they cough up the Source’s weaknesses if I have to! If you don’t like it, fine, you don’t have to help. Sit here and _wallow_. But _don’t_ get in my way, Leo.”

Leo stared at her for a long moment, and Phoebe would have liked to say he looked conflicted, but mostly he just looked like he didn’t have the energy to worry about the moral dilemma. “Alright, fine.” He sighed, turning away with a half-hearted shrug. “You’re right I don’t like it, but I honestly don’t care enough to try and stop you.”

He walked over to spot he’d claimed as his bedroom, half hidden by the first few scattered stalagmites, and set the sword against one of them before he lay down, his back to them. Phoebe watched him, feeling righteous and guilty and bitter. “Let him be.” Cole advised, and Phoebe nodded reluctantly. “We could all do with some sleep.”

Phoebe let him tug her to their own bed, and dropped off to sleep with surprising ease. Exhausting herself in battle all the time _did_ help her get to sleep at the end of the day. It didn’t help with the nightmares, though, and she jolted awake only a few hours later after a confusing jumble where she flitted from dying at the Source’s hand to killing him only to find Cole under the black hood to standing over her sister’s bodies with their blood on her hands.

She rolled over, pressed her face into Cole’s chest, and forced herself to think about all the different ways she could kill the Source until she fell asleep again. When she woke next, and found that Cole was already up, she got up, too, and decided to set about charging her brand new siderite crystals. She barely remembered what Prue had told her about them, and even thinking about it hurt, so she mostly experimented. She tried spells, herbs, even tried to get a premonition off one. She caught a glimpse of the attic at the manor, the Book of Shadows on it’s stand, and Cole seizing, shifting between his human form and Belthazor, as the siderite crystals around him sent arcs of electricity up around and into his neck like a shock collar. It was a disturbing premonition – or, vision of the past, really – and it didn’t seem to have affected the crystals at all, so Phoebe resolved _not_ to try that again.

Instead, she settled down to meditate, holding one of the crystals in her hand and visualising the flow of magic from the air into her as she breathed, from her lungs out into her arms, and down her arms into the crystal held cupped between her palms. Within five minutes she had settled into a light trance, and not long after that, she felt the crystal begin to warm and hum against her skin.

She paused long enough to glance down at the crystal, and found it glowing only very, very dimly. So she closed her eyes again, and went back to her meditation. It wasn’t anything like meditating before. The Underworld already had a strange timelessness to it that Phoebe, who unlike Cole and Leo had never lived anywhere without a twenty-four hour day and night cycle, found intensely disorienting. Meditation created it’s own timelessness, where hours could pass and feel like a few minutes, if Phoebe could really get into it. The two combined made her feel dizzy with her lack of any frame of reference for her own existence, and she usually only felt better after talking with Cole for an hour or two.

She swapped out the crystal after a while, when it was almost hot to the touch and the hum had gone from sub-audible, to high and clear, if still very faint. Before she could get the second one up to the same level of power, a sudden crash jolted her out of her trance. She was on her feet with knife in hand before she even began to search for the cause of the noise.

It was coming from the tunnel. Phoebe ran over, with Cole and Leo both close behind, and she found an entire gang of harpies – a flock of harpies? – standing there, firing bolt after bolt at the entrance. Their wards clearly worked, because the bolts were impacting against an invisible shield, causing strange bruise-purple ripples in the air as the blasts dissipated. Phoebe stood there and watched, her heartbeat slowing as it became clear there was no _immediate_ danger.

She realised after a while that she could feel the wards drawing on her power, pulling at her soul for the power it needed to keep them safe. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, but the satisfaction of succeeding at something, of foiling the Source’s plans to kill her, outweighed that discomfort entirely. She crossed her arms and smirked at the harpies beyond the barrier, watching them grow more and more frustrated as they tried and failed to blast their way in.

“How did they find us here?” Cole asked, quiet enough that his voice wouldn’t carry to the harpies over the sound of their attack.

“Good question.” Leo murmured back, sounding disturbed.

Phoebe considered it for a long moment, and felt her heart sink as the answer dawned on her. “I know you said you can use blood to track someone…” She began to Cole, and Leo sucked in a sharp breath. Phoebe reached out and caught hold of his wrist, giving a small, comforting squeeze to reassure him she wasn’t blaming him. “But can it be used to track other workings done with their blood?”

“Yes.” Cole said, resigned. “It’s difficult, and as far as I know, harpies don’t have that sort of skill with those kinds of passive, ritualistic magic. They’re hunters, kind of like enforcers for the Council.” He explained grimly. “But if they had allied with a Dark Priestess…”

“Could someone on the Council be the one doing that actual tracking?” Phoebe suggested.

Cole’s expression darkened. “Astaroth started her life as a Priestess, if I’m remembering my history correctly, and she prefers to work with the all-female clans of demon, like the harpies.” He confirmed.

“Astaroth.” Phoebe repeated. “She’s a big deal?”

“She’s the only female demon who managed to gain a seat on the Infernal Council in the entire known history of the Underworld.” Cole confirmed. “Six thousand years of dark magic thriving in these underground spaces, and she’s the only female demon strong enough to challenge five thousand years of sexism.” He added with a mocking sort of cheer.

“Good to know there are glass ceilings everywhere.” Phoebe replied with matching false brightness.

“Ask Leo sometime about just how many female Elders there have ever been.” Cole advised.

Phoebe shook her head. “And here I thought magic was a woman’s art.” She pointed out.

“Oh, it is.” Cole assured her. “It always has been. Why do you think the males are so very, very determined to be in charge? We’re entirely superfluous, and we desperately don’t want you to realise that.” He explained flippantly, smiling beatifically.

Phoebe snorted. “Now that’s not true. You’re not _entirely_ superfluous.” She shot him a look under her lashes to make sure he knew just what she was getting at. “You have some uses.”

“Is now really the time?” Leo sighed. Phoebe cleared her throat and returned her attention to the harpies attacking their wards. The way Cole’s arm shook lightly against her back made her suspect he was laughing. “They’re going to figure out this isn’t working sooner or later and try something else.” Leo announced, and as if he’d jinxed it, the harpies all paused in their attack, and a few backed off to mutter amongst themselves.

Cole decided that was his cue to saunter forwards, hands in the pockets of his jeans, to give the harpies the same smile he’d worn when pretending to be an ADA, putting potential witnesses at ease. Phoebe remembered falling head first for that smile. “Hello. Did Astaroth send you? Only it’s a bit rude of her not to have offered advanced warning you might be coming.”

“What did you think would happen if you let anyone get their hands on your blood?” One of the harpies mocked with a sneer.

“Well, we really did need that dragon bone.” Cole mused. “Tell me, were any of _your_ people in the poltergeist tunnels the day our bomb went off?” He asked idly, as if the answer was of no consequence to him really, he was just asking to pass the time.

But the harpy’s face went pale under her tan, and she hissed at him. “ _Yes_ , they were.” She snapped.

Cole clicked his tongue as if in sympathy. “What a pity.” He mused. “That it wasn’t more of you, I mean.” He added, and the harpy and a handful of those standing close to her shrieked in outrage and attacked the barrier again. Out of the blue, one of the bolts seemed to bounce. It hit the air where the wards began, the air rippled in shades of dark purple and periwinkle, and then rebounded instead of exploding, hitting the lead harpy square in the chest and vanquishing her on the spot.

“ _Enough_!” Another of the harpies thundered, and the others all stopped. The one that walked forwards looked older than the rest, her face lined and her eyes hooded. There were streaks of steel grey in her flyaway hair, but none of that diminished her grace and poise. “You will not allow Belthazor to bait you again.” She ordered, and the other harpies bowed their heads and murmured their assent.

“Celaeno.” Cole greeted. “You’re looking well.”

“You’re looking feeble.” Celaeno countered dryly.

“Things have been a little difficult lately.” Cole acknowledged with a careless shrug. “I’m surprised to see you leading this party, though, Cel. Don’t you usually prefer to hunt oath-breakers?”

“You did break your oaths.” Celaeno reminded him, eyes flashing with rage, even as she restrained herself admirably from a futile attack. “You were sworn to the service of the Source, you were sworn to the Brotherhood of the Thorn, you were _sworn_ to your mother’s memory!”

Phoebe saw the muscles tighten in the back of Cole’s neck, and stepped up beside him to slip her hand into his. She wanted to ask, but she wouldn’t. Not in front of an enemy, at least. Later. She would bring it up later. Cole glanced at her, then back to Celaeno. “I am sworn to Phoebe.” He countered. “And the Source broke his side of the deal first.”

Celaeno had nothing to say to that. She watched Cole in silence, and Phoebe wondered what she was thinking about. She didn’t look angry, or conflicted. There was nothing on her face at all. It was more than a little unnerving, and Phoebe almost opened her mouth to taunt her, to say something, to get some kind of reaction, but Cole squeezed her hand lightly when she drew in breath to do it, so she bit her tongue and just waited. “I will bear that in mind.” Celaeno finally informed him, and then; “Ladies, bring it down.”


	9. Chapter 9

The harpies opened fire. Phoebe was entirely prepared to watch them exhaust themselves on the wards again, but they were no longer aiming at them through the invisible barrier. Instead, they directed their attacks upwards, at the rough stone ceiling just that side of the wards. The first blasts left only scorch marks, but even that brought some dust or small shards raining down, and it didn’t take a great intellect to see where it would lead if the harpies were allowed to continue their attack.

Cole returned fire, and it made the battle look hilariously one-sided, with him picking them off as he pleased while they couldn’t fight back. But it wasn’t. The harpies were numerous enough that Cole couldn’t kill them fast enough, and despite the tunnel limiting their manoeuvrability, they could still dodge. It might slow their own attack on the wards a little, but not enough to make any real difference. Phoebe didn’t know how thick or strong the rock was, but they didn’t need to get _far_ to destroy the bit the sigil was drawn on.

And Cole was their only offensive fighter right now. Leo only had his sword, which the hapries could avoid if he remained behind the wards, and there were enough of them to overwhelm him if he tried to step beyond them to fight. Phoebe’s potions could disrupt the harpies, but she didn’t like the idea of adding more explosions to a tunnel she _didn’t_ want to cave-in.

Behind the main cluster of harpies, Phoebe spotted Celaeno, smirking at them as her harpies evaded Cole’s attacks more often than not, and Phoebe and Leo stood helplessly watching. Her blood boiled with impotent rage. She wished there was something more she could do, but she was fairly sure that the harpies were too strong to feel the magic of just one witch, even if she was a strong one. She didn’t know if she could draw off their own power again, but she tried to think of a spell that might work to at least get rid of them.

The wards deflected another attack, but this time the harpies scattered before it could hit one of them, and resumed their assault on the stone above the entrance from a little further back. Phoebe blinked, and then cast an assessing eye over the ceiling, the distance between the wards and the harpies. She leaned up to whisper in Cole’s ear. “Try to drive them further back.”

Cole glanced at her, one eyebrow raised in question, but he didn’t actually ask, just nodded once and focused his attacks on the harpies at the front, forcing them to back into their fellows and drive the whole group back an inch at a time.

Phoebe watched and waited. She caught Celaeno’s eye by accident, and the older demon’s eyes narrowed sharply. Suspicion was clear on her face, but she wasn’t sure enough of Phoebe’s plan to know what to do to avoid it. Phoebe decided the harpies were far enough back that she could try her plan without risking too much damage to the warding sigil. “ _Violent storms may tear the earth, crumble rock and rend stone, now you’ll discover what that’s worth, for earth breaks even bone, all the destruction you create, your own heads feel that fate._ ”

Horror flooded every harpy’s face, and they looked upwards in unison just as the tunnel began to tremble. Cole let out a bark of vindictive, triumphant laughter, and Phoebe flashed him a smug grin as the far end of the tunnel came crashing down in a sudden cave in. Just before the rocks and dust covered the entire tunnel, Phoebe saw Celaeno and a handful of other, sensible, harpies smoke out in a desperate rush.

Rocks tumbled and crashed into each other with a sound like an explosion, violent shudders shook even their cavern, but the wards held. They held even as the rocks tumbled into them, bouncing a little but soon getting shoved up against the invisible barrier by the other rocks crashing down. The dust seeped through the wards where the rocks couldn’t, and drifted in low-lying clouds around their feet as the landslide finally settled, leaving the entire tunnel blocked by rubble.

“Smart.” Cole complimented.

“Thank you!” Phoebe chirped smugly.

“Now the only way into here without being allowed through the wards is the river.” Leo observed. “That was a good tactical decision.”

Cole decided to show his agreement with that statement by hooking an arm around Phoebe’s waist and dragging her into a soul-searing kiss. “You’re _brilliant_.” He informed her when they surfaced for air, and then promptly kissed her again. Phoebe was in no way complaining. She pressed up into him, hanging onto his shoulders for dear life as he kissed every last sensible thought out of her head.

“I’ll just…” Leo began awkwardly. “Go… scout?” He offered.

Phoebe jerked away from Cole hastily. “No, Leo, don’t.” She said quickly, and then offered a sheepish and not very sincere smile of apology. “Sorry, we didn’t mean to get carried away.”

“Maybe _you_ didn’t.” Cole murmured wickedly.

Phoebe elbowed him in the ribs, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress a grin. “I _didn’t_.” She insisted firmly. “Not that I’m objecting, exactly, but we can’t chase Leo out.” With a pointed glance at both of them, she gestured at the now collapsed tunnel. “The harpies are tracking him. If he leaves, they can find him, and they know where we are now. We can’t change that, exactly, but before Leo goes out alone, we need to get his blood back.”

“If I’m right, and it’s Astaroth, that’s only a few measures less dangerous than going after the Source himself.” Cole pointed out, disapproving.

“I know, but we’re not going to let them have Leo.” Phoebe insisted.

“Then we need a plan.” Cole retorted warningly. “A good plan. Something that won’t result in any of us _nearly dying_. We’re supposed to be taking less risks now that we’re digging in, not _more_.”

Phoebe nodded and spread her arms invitingly. “I’m open to suggestions.” Cole gave her a deadpan stare. Phoebe raised her eyebrows at him, then turned that look on Leo. “Any ideas?” She prompted hopefully. “We could… lure her out and send one of the others in round the back? We could… offer an alliance against the Source? We could… come on, help me out here!”

Cole sighed. “Baiting her might work. Offering her power might work. But they’re both still risky and extremely dangerous.” He paused, the light of inspiration dawning in his eyes, and he tilted his head in thought. Phoebe bounced a little on her toes, giving him a prompting smile. “We could try both? Lure her out with an offer of power, and send someone else in to retrieve the blood whether or not she agrees.”

“That’s still dangerous.” Leo pointed out. “We’ll be going up against her without full strength if she _does_ say no, and whoever sneaks in will be in even more danger, because I doubt someone that high up in the hierarchy is working alone. She’ll have attendants, maybe even the harpies, couriers and servants and minions, and she won’t bring them all with her.”

“Oh!” Phoebe gasped, clapping her hands together in glee. “But what if we _weren’t_ going up against her without full strength?” She asked. Both men looked to her expectantly. “She’d be expecting all three of us anyway, and she’d be suspicious if any one of us wasn’t there. So we just need to make an ally she’d never expect before we go in. How quickly do you think we can find Xar?”

“Do you really think that could work?” Leo wondered dubiously. “It’s not a terrible plan, I guess, but it’s a lot to ask of a new ally, to risk themselves for our benefit when it’s not directly related to our shared goal, and it’s also a lot of trust on our part, that he’ll actually fetch the blood, that he’ll give it to us without keeping any for himself…”

“It looks like a lot of trust, but we’re not actually risking all that much.” Cole corrected. “We can claim innocence if Astaroth discovers Xar, and your blood is already in demon hands, so if he keeps it, we’re only going to have to retrieve it from him, which might even be easier than sneaking into Astaroth’s lair.” He looked like he was warming to the plan quickly, and Phoebe was delighted. “Xar will take time to locate. Time I’m not sure we really have.”

“We’ll have to make the time.” Phoebe stated firmly. “Leo can stay here more often, but I don’t think he has to be confined or anything.” She didn’t think she was imagining the momentary flash of relief on Leo’s face. “He can fend off a few harpies, and if things are really dire, he can just orb back here. It’s not like we’re still trying to keep the location secret from them, after all.”

Cole nodded his agreement. “Well then we’d best get to hunting.”

“I should probably stay here… at least for a while.” Leo said, looking around their cavern with an attempt at hopeful acceptance. He mostly just looked desolate.

“Actually…” Cole began deviously. “I think you should go sight-seeing. Wander around, orb all over. Keep your ears open for any rumours about Xar, maybe keep your eyes open for another cave we could use as a safe-house of sorts, in case this one becomes more compromised. But keep moving, so that if they decide to track you again immediately, they’ll get sent on a wild goose chase, and you can just orb back here if they catch up.”

Leo didn’t exactly perk up, but resolve hardened his features and made him look far less lost. “I can do that.” He agreed, and didn’t wait for any more discussion, just orbed out.

“And us?” Phoebe asked.

Cole didn’t answer for a moment, eyes narrowed as he thought. “Well, the way I _was_ going to find him won’t be fast enough now. We could beat it out of someone, but that might make him run. I can’t think of any way to track him that he isn’t likely to have defended against…”

“I could try to get a premonition?” Phoebe offered. “I mean, I usually need something associated with what I’m trying to get a premonition about, but… Maybe just somewhere he used to hang out? Is there a way we could get into the Triad’s… uh, lair? Or some relic of theirs?”

Cole’s expression was sceptical, but not outright doubtful. He was visibly considering it. “The protections on the Triad’s lair have always been some of the strongest anywhere in the underworld, but with them dead… And a new triad hasn’t come forward yet or we would have heard about it, so there _is_ a chance we could get in.”

“So let's try it.” Phoebe enthused.

Cole slung his arm around her waist, but this time it wasn’t nearly as romantic. He looked like he was bracing himself for pain, face set into hard lines and his eyes closed. “Hold on to me.” He warned, so Phoebe looped her arms around his middle and gripped tightly. “Here goes nothing.” Cole breathed, and then shimmered.

The world wavered and dissolved into a hazy mess, and stayed that way for far longer than Phoebe was used to, before it resolved itself into a dark cavern. Unlike other areas of the underworld, there was no ominous ambient lightning spilling from nowhere in specific. This cave did have grand metal stands holding braziers well above head height, but they were unlit, standing dark and almost hidden in the shadows. The only light in the place came from the low circular dais Cole had landed them on. It was in the rough center of the cave, atop a more ordinary stone dais, and it glowed dimly with a sickly grey light and oozed wisps of sluggish black smoke to further obscure the low lighting.

“Well, this is creepy as hell.” Phoebe muttered.

Cole huffed, amused. “Literally.” He quipped, and Phoebe snorted. She untangled her arms from around him, and he let her go with obvious reluctance. “Don’t go too far. If anything happens, I want to be able to get out of here _fast_.” He warned.

Phoebe nodded distractedly. There wasn’t really anything to touch in here, so she crouched down and laid her hands over the surface of the dais. It was cold, and through the light Phoebe could see that whatever it was made of was translucent and cloudy, like flawed crystal. She closed her eyes and tried to focus, on what little she knew about Xar.

She caught a flash, a brief flicker of an image of a trio of demons stood around the very dais she was crouched on now, but when it was glowing with a cold white light so brightly that it obscured most of the rest of the cave for anyone standing atop it. The Triad were in black robes with a strange symbol embroidered on the chest, an upside down triangle with lines from each corner leading into the center. Then the image was gone, and Phoebe sighed in frustration.

“Nothing?” Cole asked, voice tense.

“Just a glimpse.” Phoebe muttered as she got back to her feet and looked around. She pictured the cave from her memory, and then carefully pointed out where each of the demons had been standing. Cole sucked in a sharp breath. “Thought so.” Phoebe said, darkly pleased, and grabbed hold of Cole’s arm to tow him over to one of the spots. Once there, she crouched down again, laid her hands against the smooth black stone, and concentrated.

The vision came to her in a burst, blindingly clear and intense. She could see Cole, bleeding through his white tank top, standing in the middle of the Triad on that glowing dais, looking around at them with a hunted, wild look in his eyes. One of the triad summoned up an explosion-ball just like the Source could, and even though it was only a memory, only a vision of the past, Phoebe’s heart picked up in fear and rage. Before the Triad member could fling it at Cole, Cole hurled a dagger from behind his back.

It caught the demon in the chest, and he collapsed. Even only seeing an echo in her mind, Phoebe could _feel_ the way the power of the triumvirate shattered. She realised, with a distant, long-ago sense of horror, that that knife had probably been cursed to do exactly that, destroy a triumvirate by killing one. Her. The old horror was immediately subsumed by a newer, fresher surge of triumph, of pride, that even injured Cole had been cunning enough to turn every advantage he had against their enemies, that he _hadn’t_ hurt her, even when he’d been primed and ready to.

The other two of the Triad died quickly, one by a snapped neck, and the last with an energy-ball. It was an elegant fight, so thoroughly in Cole’s favour, but his obvious anguish and frustration, even standing over the corpses of those who tried to use him for their own ends, hit Phoebe like it was her own. She fell out of the vision with enough psychic force that it knocked her over onto her ass.

“Phoebe?!” Cole demanded, alarmed, reaching down to catch her arm and pull her up. She went, got her feet under herself and found her balance, but didn’t have it in her to reassure him just yet. “Phoebe, what did you see?” Cole pressed, hands running over her arms.

“I… I saw you killing them.” Phoebe admitted. “I _felt_ how… frustrated and betrayed and conflicted you were. I wish it… No, I don’t wish it had been easier for you, but I… I wish you hadn’t had to hurt like that.” She tried. It still didn’t sound right, her words not managing to convey what she was feeling at all. She shook her head in frustration, but was stopped when Cole cupped her cheek in one hand.

“Worth it.” Cole informed her, meeting her gaze squarely, and staring right through her eyes and into her soul. “To know you, to love you, it was entirely worth it, Phoebe.” Phoebe closed her eyes and leaned into the touch, turning her head to kiss his palm. Cole let the moment linger just a beat longer, and then he returned to the issue at hand. “Do you think that’s all you’ll be able to get from this place?”

“Let me try one more time.” Phoebe countered, looking around the room, and trying to feel for any convergence of magical energy. “Third time is the charm.” She quipped, and it came out far, far more bitter than she meant it to. Cole gave her hand a squeeze, but didn’t comment, just let her go and trailed her as she circled the room. She brushed her hand along the wall as she walked, hoping that even a trace of something lingering in the walls might trigger a premonition.

“So…” Phoebe began, before she knew she had any plans to speak at all. Cole made a vague noise to encourage her to continue when she didn’t, and she went with it, even though she was pretty sure she had spectacularly bad timing. “This might not be the best time, but I wanted to ask about something, uh, Celaeno said?” Phoebe glanced over her shoulder at Cole, to see that his expression had closed off. He didn’t quite look away from her, but she got the feeling he wanted to. “What did she mean about you being sworn to your mother’s memory?”

Cole shrugged, careless, like it didn’t matter, when Phoebe could see so clearly in his eyes that it did. “She was an upper level demon who specialised in infiltration of the human world and assassination of forces of great good. I am – was – her heir. She raised me to join her in her work, and to continue it if she was ever vanquished, which she was.” Now he looked away, tipping his face up to regard the ceiling with a carefully neutral expression. “It’s not been very high on my list of priorities for a while now, even before I met you. The Brotherhood came first, then the Source, then my father’s soul, then my own reputation, and _then_ , I might worry about what my dear old mother might think.”

Phoebe considered that while she was also considering the tunnel that led into the cave. There was a concentration of magical energy around it, but even standing there for almost a minute, she doesn’t get a single premonition. “It’s more than that. You got upset when Celaeno mentioned your mother, but none of the other stuff fazed you.”

“Demons don’t love. Not the way humans think of it, anyway. But my mother was still my entire world for almost a hundred years. I hate her for that more than a little, but it’s not something I’ve ever successfully gotten away from. So, yes, my mother is a sore subject.” Cole explained with an edge of dark, almost cruel amusement under his studied indifference.

“Sorry.” Phoebe offered, spotting a patch of stone that looked oddly discoloured, about chest height on the cave wall. She wandered over to it, frowning. The way the shadows spread across the stone, it looked almost like someone had taken a picture of a scorch-mark and let the colours run and fade. She ran the tips of her fingers lightly around the edge of it.

“I know most of your sordid family history, so it’s only fair you get to hear some of mine.” Cole replied flippantly. Phoebe shot him a playfully quelling look over her shoulder, not even thinking about it as she laid her palm flat against the mark to brace her weight.

The vision took her like a raging current, dragging her under unprepared and utterly disorienting her along the way. There was a man, red-haired and unshaven, deep-set eyes and a narrow nose, in the black triangle-marked robe of the Triad, staggering into the cave, losing his footing due to exhaustion or injury, Phoebe couldn’t tell, and fetching up against the wall. He leaned there, exactly where Phoebe was stood in the present, and let his head fall back against the wall as he gulped down ragged breath after ragged breath.

“What have you _done_?!” A voice demanded, but Phoebe couldn’t see the speaker, only the red-head, who opened eyes that had slid shut just to roll them.

“What you were too cowardly to attempt. Isn’t that my role in this?” The red-head snarked, but there was little energy behind it.

“No! We are meant to pool our resources and work _together_ .” Another voice joined in, with a strangely jarring cadence to his every word. “You have taken all we had and _squandered_ it on a foolhardy attempt to wrest power from a creature that cannot be killed.”

Another eye-roll from the red-head, and this time he actually picked up his head to give the others a deeply unimpressed look. “Listen to yourself.” He scoffed. “Cannot be killed? Everything can be killed. Since when have we, _the Triad_ , the inverted triquetra, the Dragon’s Eye, been afraid of one measly demon? We should never have been forced to bow before him, not to _any_ demon, and we’ve _lost_ what we _are_ because of it! We’re the fear and the dark and the hunt. We’re _chaos incarnate_ , and you’ve let him shackle us! Bring us to heel like whipped dogs! He should not have _dared_!”

“Take your own advice, Xar.” The first voice retorted, actually sounding shaken by that impassioned rant. It had clearly cost Xar, what little colour he had in his face fading to grey, sweat beading at his temples and trickling down into his scraggly beard. “You’re insane.”

Xar covered his eyes with one hand, and laughed. He did sound hysterical, and more than a little bitter. “Ah, _that’s_ why I feel so weak.” He breathed, sagging against the wall as his knees started to buckle. “You’ve cut me out.”

“We had to!” The mechanical-voiced one protested.

“Waawaa, the big mean Source _made us do it_.” Xar mocked, lips twitching and shivering as he tried to pull them into a snarl without the energy to back it up. “ _Pathetic_.” He spat with an impressive level of disgust and vitriol. Then he let himself drop to the floor just as one of those shadow-bound fire balls exploded against the stone where his chest had been. After one deep gulp of air, eyes tightening as he braced himself, Xar shimmered away, and Phoebe’s vision shimmered and dissolved with him.

Then Phoebe was back in the cave of the Triad, staring at the back of her eyelids. She forced her eyes to open, even though they kind of ached, and she thought she might want to keep them closed a little bit longer. Cole was standing right in front of her, hands out like he wasn’t sure if he ought not to touch, but couldn’t entirely restrain the impulse. “Get anything useful?” He asked without any real hope.

“Well, I saw Xar getting kicked out of the Triad.” Phoebe patted the scorch-mark, and Cole’s eyebrows flew up. “And he fled before they could kill him, but I didn’t get to see _where_.” She exclaimed in frustration. “Fat lot of good that did us.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Phoebe recognised the voice, so she didn’t let herself draw the dagger she’d automatically reached for, but Cole didn’t, and he whirled with an energy-ball at the ready, only to freeze at the sight of the demon standing on the glowing dais, hands raised to indicate harmlessness. “Xar.” Phoebe greeted warily.

The ex-Triad member smiled, which looked far too smooth and sent Phoebe straight down to the depths of uncanny valley. She tried not to let her shudder show, but by the way Xar’s smile widened, it probably did. “You have a very strong gift.” Xar informed her.

“How could you possibly know that?” Phoebe demanded.

“I felt it.” Xar replied, as if it should have been obvious. “You were prying into _my_ past, digging through _my_ magical signature. Did you expect me not to notice, especially after your friend here has been asking so many prying questions about me?”

“Oh, great.” Phoebe threw her arms in the air, and winced when it pulled on still healing injuries. Magic made her slightly more resilient than your average mortal, especially down here, but it was still slow going, and she was at the point where she was starting to forget her wounds were there until she did something stupid and pulled on them. “Are you telling me I’m going to have to watch out _who I get a premonition about_ from now on? How is that fair?”

Xar gave her a deeply pitying look. “Magic is never _fair_ , witch.” He drawled, then sighed and rolled his eyes. Phoebe was starting to get the impression he did that a lot. “But no, I only sensed your powers because I knew you would be looking for me.”

“Well, the Source knows I’m looking for him, too.” Phoebe pointed out.

Xar cocked his head. “Does he? _He’s_ looking for you, everyone knows that, but no one’s quite certain what it is _you_ want. The Source dead? The entire Underworld in ruins? To go home? Are you just doing what white witches do, or do you have a plan?” He shrugged, an exaggerated movement, complete with puzzled pout and outstretched arms, palms raised. “No one knows.”

Phoebe rolled her eyes right back at him. “I’m not some mindless animal chasing demons in circles.” She retorted, whirling a finger in the air to demonstrate. “Of course I have a plan.”

“Mm, I did suspect, else you wouldn’t have been trying so hard to find _me_.” Xar agreed. Then he glanced around and pulled a face like he’d just smelled something disgusting. “Perhaps we should go somewhere more hospitable?” He suggested.

“Do you have a lair?” Phoebe asked.

“Do you?” Xar retorted.

“Not one you’re seeing until I know we can trust you that far.” Phoebe shot back.

Xar inclined his head to her, and Phoebe really didn’t like the patronising look on his face. “Why on earth would you expect me to offer courtesies that a _white witch_ wouldn’t?”

“Neutral ground, then.” Cole interjected, sounding annoyed and impatient. Phoebe leaned into him in the hopes of soothing his temper. His hand came up to settle on her shoulder. “You know the old catacombs?” Xar rolled his eyes, which Cole evidently decided to take as a yes. “There’s a lovely little chamber down three left turns from the bonepool. See you there.” Cole flashed an insincere smile, tightened his grip on Phoebe, and shimmered them out.

The cave that appeared around them was small compared to the other caves Phoebe had seen in the underworld, with enough space for maybe half a dozen people to sit comfortably. The entire thing was lined with bones that seemed to have been half fused with the walls themselves, which were exactly the same yellowed white as the bones themselves. The effect was eerie, and not helped by the low ambient lighting, that, of course, made the shadows in the eye-sockets of the skulls look like they were moving unless you looked at them head on.

“Lovely?” Phoebe echoed dryly.

“Quiet, and no one else cares to know it’s here.” Cole retorted. “Actually, maybe we should ward this place, too. It couldn’t be a place to work from, but as a bolthole, it’s unknown enough to work.” Before Phoebe could have an opinion on that, Xar appeared next to them, looking around curiously.

“So. You tried to kill the Source?” Phoebe asked, before he could say anything and take control of the conversation.

Xar looked momentarily startled by the question. “Yes. Ah, is that what you’re trying to do now?” He wondered, and though his tone betrayed no interest, his eyes had gone from bored to intent in a heartbeat.

“He _killed_ my _sisters_.” Phoebe snarled.

“No, he didn’t.” Xar informed her.

Shock hit first, incomprehension clouding her mind and making the moment drag into terrifying stillness. Then Phoebe’s heart leapt with _impossible_ hope, because she was cut off from the mortal world, but that didn’t necessarily mean _everyone_ was, or that some demons couldn’t see past the Source’s seal. She didn’t see how her sister’s could have survived something that nearly killed them when they had a healer and another sister on hand and ready to help, but if Xar knew something-

“ _Shax_ killed them.”

Phoebe was going to _kill him_. For dangling that hope in front of her just when she’d thought she was getting used to the gaping hole in her chest where her sisters used to be. She was going to hold him down and twist the knife as she drove it home and make him _scream_ before he died. She was going to rip out _his heart_ and see how _he_ liked it!

“Phoebe.” Cole murmured, catching her arm just as she stepped forwards. Phoebe turned to glare at him, and he squeezed her arm in warning. “Bad idea.” He told her gently, and only then did Phoebe realise that she had a dagger in hand. She blinked down at it, feeling suddenly wildly off-balance. “And _you_ ,” Cole added to Xar, tone shifting from soft to viciously biting without hesitation, “mind your tongue or I’ll mind it for you.”

Xar, predictably, rolled his eyes. “It’s an important distinction.” He insisted, as though _that_ had been Phoebe’s problem with what he’d said. “If you want vengeance on the one who killed your sisters, the demon you want is Shax, not the Source. Now, that might mean killing the Source to open the way to the mortal world again, but honestly, I don’t think that would work.”

“Shax is _the Source’s_ assassin. Maybe the Source didn’t strike the killing blow, but he ordered it, he’s been gunning for us for _months_ , and we made a deal to save his hide _and_ my sisters, and he _broke that deal_!” Phoebe yelled, slashing a hand through the air. “Yes, maybe, one day, I’ll kill Shax for killing my sisters, but right now? It’s the Source’s head I want on a platter, not his.”

Xar’s face slowly spread into a wide, malicious smile. “Excellent. In that case, I do believe we may be able to work together.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for missing last week's update, and almost missing this one. Real life sort of swamped me with really petty issues, that nonetheless made me complete forget about this fic. This is, I've gotta be honest, one of my favourite chapters, and I hope that makes up for it being a week late ^^"

Phoebe let Cole explain their first plan, because he was good at spinning things to make them sound appealing to people. She only half listened, still too angry to care much about the details. She started listening again when she heard Xar scoff. “What’s in it for me?” He asked pointedly. Phoebe twitched with the urge to punch him, and restrained herself by thinking of how much _more_ she hated the Source.

“Allies.” Cole retorted.

Xar looked genuinely disbelieving. “Are you really trying to make this some sort of condition for your assistance in a matter I _know_ you’ll be pursuing by yourselves anyway?”

“It’s not a condition, exactly.” Cole replied, feigning thoughtfulness. “But we’ll be worse than useless to you if we’re being ambushed by harpies every hour.” He pointed out. Xar rolled his eyes. Phoebe was so very tempted to dig out his eyes with one of her knives. Good luck rolling them then.

“You’re not being ambushed by harpies _now_ , are you?” Xar pointed out.

“ _No_.” Phoebe snapped, and not in answer to his question. “We are a _package deal_ , you condescending asshole. If you won’t work with _all of us_ , you can go back to whatever hovel you crawled out of and _die there_.”

Xar stared at her for a long moment. Phoebe stared right back, just _daring_ him to try and argue the point. She’d have Cole take them back to their lair if he tried to push this point. Cole and Leo were the only good things left in her life, and she wasn’t going to give either of them more excuses to leave than she could help. Then Xar rolled his eyes. “Very well, then. But in exchange, you will need to find a new lair with decent wards that we can _all_ access.”

Phoebe glanced over at Cole, who shrugged and gave her a pointed look, leaving the decision up to her. In all honesty, she wasn’t sure that was a good idea. She was still too angry with Xar to think any idea he suggested was a good one. She shrugged as well, and then gave Cole a matching pointed look. He grinned wryly, then turned back to Xar. “If you contribute to the blood wards, then sure.”

“The point was for this to be equal payment for my help in securing _your_ safety. If I have to carry half the defences as well, it’s hardly fair.” Xar retorted.

“One quarter.” Cole corrected mildly.

Xar gaped at him, rendered entirely speechless. Then he turned that stunned expression on Phoebe, who raised her eyebrows and waited. After almost a full minute of blank staring, Xar’s eyes flickered between the two of them, and he finally found words. “A white witch practising blood magics?” He asked her cautiously.

Phoebe bared her teeth at him in an expression that was only barely a grin. “I guess I’ve gone native.” She mocked.

Xar looked rather impressed, which Phoebe got the feeling from his general attitude didn’t happen very often. She really didn’t care whether he was impressed with her or not, just whether he would help. “Yes, alright, I can accept that.” He agreed. “Then I suppose I’ll need to know about Astaroth’s defences. Inside knowledge, or aid, would be best. I can send my minions to see just how loyal her attendants are, but if you know of anyone who might be swayed…?”

Cole thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Celaeno might be an ally against the Source, if I can work on her a little more, but ask any of the female clans to turn on Astaroth? You’d better ask a darklighter to heal.” Xar snorted and tipped his head in acknowledgement.

They discussed a few more details, but mostly they agreed that they would each remain responsible for their own half of the plan, and only work together if they really needed the help. Then Xar left. Cole waited for a moment before holding out his hand to Phoebe and taking them both to some remote section of the Underworld. It turned out to be a dim grey tunnel, and Phoebe wasted no time in calling for Leo. He orbed in a moment later, looking none the worse for wear.

“We found him.” Phoebe informed Leo promptly.

“Yeah?”

“Yup.” Phoebe confirmed. “And he’s agreed to work with us, as long as we go house hunting for him. On that note, did you find any good places to bunk?”

Leo shrugged one shoulder. “I think so, but I’d need Cole to tell me if we’re too close to any hot spots or anything, since I can’t sense the shape of the Underworld the same way.”

“That’s no trouble.” Cole accepted. “Let’s go have a look, and then we need to work out how we’re going to present our offer to Astaroth, what exactly we’re going to offer her, and how to draw it out long enough for Xar to have time to get in and out without getting caught.”

Leo nodded, and caught hold of both of them to orb them into a large sandstone cave with several large pillars like tree trunks scattered through it, wider at the base and the ceiling. There was only one tunnel in, low enough that most people would have to duck to get through, and the walls were fairly smooth. It was bigger than Phoebe thought the three of them would need, but if they were bringing Xar, who apparently had his own minions, into the fold, then it was probably not big enough.

“It works.” Cole agreed. Leo managed a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and orbed them somewhere else at once.

“I don’t want to risk the harpies finding it, if we’re going to be using it as a base.” Leo pointed out, a touch apologetically, when Phoebe stumbled upon landing and swore at the unexpected orb. She grimaced and nodded her acceptance. “So… what’s the plan?”

“We get a message to Astaroth, that we’d like to meet with her. It has to be subtle, discreet, because if we’re too overt, she’ll have no choice but to bring it to the Source. If she didn’t, and she failed to capture us, she would lose _a lot_ of the power she’s worked _very hard_ to accrue. But if we can tempt her with the hope of capturing Phoebe alive to present to him, with no one to blame her if she fails, then she’ll take the meeting.”

“At which point, we try to convince her to turn on the Source.” Phoebe interjected. “It shouldn’t be hard. I mean, she’s obviously pretty determined to hold onto her power, and if we kill the Source, that’s a power vacuum right there that she could step into if she’s in the right place at the right time.”

“Then, if she takes it, we have a _very_ powerful ally. If she doesn’t, she will most likely try to capture or kill us, at which point we need to be prepared.” Cole continued, starting to pace as he thought. “Astaroth is primarily a trickster. She won’t fight fair if she can avoid it, which makes her difficult to predict in battle, and she has a _lot_ of support, so we’ll need to be on the look out for an ambush.”

“So we chose the location.” Leo listed off. “And we keep an eye on it to make sure she doesn’t trap it before the meeting. And we should come up with multiple exit strategies. And make sure we have something in reserve that can at least slow her down if we do get caught in a trap and need time to escape.” He trailed off thoughtfully.

“Do you think I could manage a spell that will suppress any magical power within a certain area?” Phoebe wondered. “I’d need to anchor it to something else, or it would fail the moment I stepped inside, but maybe…”

From there, the three of them spun into a flurry of preparations. They eventually settled on the small cave in the catacombs, since it was small, hard to access, and Phoebe was fairly sure she could anchor a magic-dampening spell to the bones that lined the walls. Once that was done, they decided the best way to get a message to Astaroth was to send it via the harpies. After all, they didn’t have conclusive proof that it _was_ Astaroth who had Leo’s blood, so sending the message through the harpies meant that, Astaroth or not, the message would get to where it needed to be.

Since they knew Astaroth – if it was her – could track Leo, they decided against specifying a time, and instead decided that Leo would hide in their old lair until they were ready, and then orb to the catacombs and wait for them to locate him. Phoebe was honestly expecting that they’d need a while to recover after fighting the harpies long enough to get the message across, but it turned out the harpies were more willing to listen than Phoebe had anticipated.

They’d just dodged the first flurry of energy-bolts, diving behind a convenient cluster of wickedly sharp spires of rock in the middle of the generic cave they’d chosen to stage this fight in, when Cole called out, “We have a message for your boss!” and the barrage ceased. Phoebe raised her eyebrows at Cole, who just gestured for her to wait.

“Speak, traitor.” Came the eventual reply.

“Tell Celaeno that we’d like to speak with the one who’s helping her track us. No trap, just a parley. Seems to me we might be able to come to some sort of understanding.” Cole explained without sticking so much as a toe out from his hiding place. “We’re getting a bit tired of avoiding you, and I’m sure you’d all prefer it if we didn’t squash any more of your sisters.”

There were snarls in answer to that, and Phoebe even flinched a little, not liking the parallel. Cole reached over and caught hold of her hand, but didn’t say anything, waiting for a reply. “When and where?” One of the harpies asked finally, sounding cold and angry, but still asking.

“I’m sure your boss can find us when she’s ready.” Phoebe called, doing her best to sound sweet and annoyed, rather than relieved. Her tone obviously amused the harpies, because she heard a snicker before Cole abruptly slumped back against the rocks, being careful to avoid the sharp edges, with a sigh of relief. “They’re gone?” Phoebe whispered, and he nodded.

“I’ll head back to our old lair.” Leo said, straightening from his crouch on Phoebe’s other side. “Come get me when we’re ready.” He added, and then orbed out without another word.

Phoebe frowned after him. “I’m getting worried about him.” She said.

“He’s grieving.” Cole reminded her. “And he’s doing better than I would, so I’m not too worried, yet.”

Phoebe glanced back at him and offered him a small, flattered smile. “What else needs doing before we go get Leo?”

“I’ll drop you off in the catacombs, then alert Xar that we’re ready to move, and then bring Leo and join you.” Cole decided, and Phoebe nodded her agreement. When he left her in their small cave in the catacombs, stepping outside to shimmer away where his powers weren’t suppressed, Phoebe found herself pacing, agitated. She didn’t like waiting, it left her far too much time to think. There was also the fact that she wasn’t daring to let herself hope that they _could_ actually sway Astaroth to their side, but the thought was there, insidiously inserting itself into her future plans. The hope of such a powerful ally _hurt_ , and the potential disappointment if they squandered this opportunity made her more nervous than she’d been in years.

Then Leo and Cole arrived, and she found it a little easier to shut down those distressing thoughts, and focus on what she was going to _do_. She was going to talk, and bargain, and if all else failed, she would kick Astaroth in the face and run for it. Time crawled by, and only Leo seemed unaffected by the creeping tension. He leaned back against a pattern of human thigh bones by the entrance, crossed his arms, and settled in to wait like he didn’t have a care in the world. Phoebe wanted to pace, but she was prevented by the arm Cole was keeping around her, clinging just a little, and Phoebe knew it was because he wanted a hand on her in case they had to run, so that the moment he could shimmer again, he could take Phoebe out of harm’s way with him.

They had no warning. One moment they were still waiting, and the next, there were another three people standing in the cave with them. One Phoebe recognised instantly as Celaeno, but the other two were new to her, and definitely not harpies. The one standing a step back, alongside Celaeno, was pretty, almost cute, with strawberry blonde hair up in a milkmaid braid that accentuated her round cheeks, and she was wearing an outfit Phoebe could only describe as a rich purple bikini, which just barely kept her decent and was accented with a lot of fine silver chains dangling and swooping over her neck, ribcage and thighs. Her feet, to Phoebe’s surprise, were bare except for a single silver anklet around one ankle.

The last of the three was, Phoebe was almost completely sure, Astaroth. She looked like a young woman, with dusky skin and large almond eyes lined in very archaic Egyptian kohl, but her hair was styled like a modern day runway model, all windswept curls, and her clothes were dark red leather armour, form-fitting but more practical than flattering. She also wore a black cloak with a golden fur collar that settled close about her neck and set her dark hair tumbling over her front. Her lips were painted heart’s blood red, brighter than her armour but not by much, and they were twisted into a small, amused smile.

“A power suppressing spell? My, it’s as if you don’t trust me.” Astaroth mused, dark eyes glittering.

“I know better than to trust you, Astaroth.” Cole answered at once, then gestured between Phoebe and the Council member. “Astaroth, this is Phoebe Halliwell. Phoebe, Astaroth of the Infernal Council.”

“An honour, for one of my ilk to meet a Charmed One and hope to escape alive.” Astaroth replied, and for all that she sounded sincere, the amusement that never left her face made it seem like a joke, as though she was mocking them all.

“Likewise.” Phoebe retorted, and Astaroth beamed.

“Oh, you _are_ sweet.” She exclaimed, by every appearance delighted by the perceived compliment. “Of course, I’m already acquainted with Belthazor here, but who is your other friend? It seems so rude to have been chasing him so faithfully these last few weeks, and yet not even know his name.” The look Astaroth gave Leo was almost flirtatious, except there was something vicious under her smile that made it seem more like she was more interested in pain than pleasure.

“Belthazor goes by Cole Turner, now.” Phoebe informed her, when Cole didn’t make any move to correct her. “And this is Leo Wyatt, my whitelighter.” Astaroth inclined her head to both of them, gave Leo another of those looks that wasn’t quite flirtatious, and then returned her focus to Phoebe.

“These are my Lieutenants.” Astartoth introduced, gesturing between the two women either side of her. “You’re already acquainted with Celaeno, of course, one of the leaders of the harpies, and this is Lily, the matriarch of the succubi.” The blonde in the bikini wiggled her fingers at Phoebe and winked.

“Astaroth, Celaeno, and… _Lily_.” Phoebe repeated, a little amused.

Lily shrugged and looked at Phoebe from under her lashes. “Lily does roll off the tongue better, don’t you think?” She asked in a liquid sweet voice. Phoebe decided she wasn’t going to deign to answer that – mostly because she couldn’t think of an answer that wasn’t ‘yes, actually’ – and returned her attention to Astaroth.

Said demon was still smiling at Phoebe like she was just waiting for Phoebe to get the joke. It was deeply unnerving, and Phoebe was beginning to suspect that that _was_ the joke. The silence stretched out, edging ever closer to awkward. “Well?” Astaroth prompted. “You’re the ones who invited me to this charming ossuary.” She paused to glance around with a fond eye. “What is it that you want from me, exactly?”

 _Now_ , Astaroth’s smile faded to the barest curve of her lips. Given that she was still wearing a perfectly pleasant expression, it shouldn’t have felt so much like a threat, but it did. Phoebe steeled herself, and refused to be intimidated. “We were wondering if you want to help us kill the Source.” She announced boldly, and both Celaeno and Lily made choked sounds of alarm and protest.

Astaroth wasn’t fazed at all. She just continued to watch Phoebe with the ghost of a smile still lingering on her lips. “That’s an interesting proposition.” She remarked without indicating whether she was actually interested or not. “What makes you think I’d take it?”

Phoebe gave her a deeply unimpressed look. “Maybe everything Cole told me about you?” She suggested, as if it should have been obvious, which, really, she _did_ think it was obvious. “You’re a successful woman in a male-dominated industry. Of course you want to stick it to the asshole who thinks having a penis means he gets to boss you around. You’re apparently something of a trickster-” Astaroth’s smile widened just a touch at that, which made Phoebe shiver in disquiet. “-so the idea of double-crossing someone who thinks they can trust you probably appeals to you. And you’re a demon, and demons generally want more power and more minions to boss around. If the Source is dead, well, who knows who’s going to be in charge next?” Phoebe shrugged one shoulder, and offered Astaroth an entirely fake smile. “Could be you.”

“Tempting, I admit.” Astaroth agreed, smiling away. “But have you considered that, ambitious or not, trickster or not, demon or not, I might happen to have a reason for following the Source?” She asked, patient and kind, like a kindergarten teacher.

“You might.” Phoebe agreed. “But how good a reason could it be?”

Astaroth’s lips pulled down for the first time Phoebe had seen, into a mock-thoughtful moue. She couldn’t hold it for long, and in a moment she was smiling again, like the entire conversation was just too amusing. “I might love him.” She stated, perfectly casual and so off-hand it startled a choked laugh out of Phoebe. “I would have thought you, of all people, wouldn’t underestimate what someone might do for love.” Astaroth chided, eyes dancing pointedly between Phoebe and Cole.

“If you loved him,” Cole interjected, dry as the desert, “I’d suggest we take a holiday, and wait for you to do our work for us.” He paused, and gave Astaroth a droll look. “Your reputation precedes you, Astaroth. I’ve heard what happens to demons who catch your attention, and I think it’d actually be a kinder fate to just vanquish them.”

Astaroth laughed, utterly delighted. “Oh, Belthazor. That’s a horrible accusation to make.” Her words were offended, but her tone was flattered. “I only ruin the ones that _want_ to be ruined.” She paused, then shrugged innocently. “Just because most demons are hopelessly self-destructive doesn’t make it _my_ fault that I’m willing to oblige them.”

“Cole.” Cole corrected, wisely not touching the rest of that statement.

“Oh, alright.” Astaroth sighed, shaking her head in amusement. “Cole, then. You didn’t really think I’d turn on the Source just because one witch and her two pets said ‘hey, why not?’, did you?” She asked, abruptly bringing the conversation back on track.

“Worth a try.” Phoebe quipped flippantly.

Astaroth’s eyes narrowed, even as her smile remained in place. “You _did_ surprise me, and that doesn’t happen very often. I was so sure you were going to ask me to stop sending the harpies after your whitelighter.” She tilted her head to look at Leo, and her smile widened. “Speaking of self-destructive men…” Trailing off pointedly, she gave Leo a sweeping once-over that made him grimace and shift uncomfortably. Her gaze was all amusement when she returned it to Phoebe.

“Well, that was where we got the idea from.” Phoebe agreed, seeing no reason not to be honest, since Astaroth clearly knew what they really wanted. “But ‘want to help us kill someone?’ sounded better than ‘oh pretty please stop hunting us’. _I’d_ laugh, if a demon came to me with that, so we figured we needed a better offer, and what’s better than the Underworld on a platter?”

“I can’t fault your logic.” Astaroth admitted, sounding thoughtful. “But your offer does lack a certain something. After all, why would I pass up a remarkable opportunity to kill one of the _Charmed Ones_ for the uncertain hope of one day maybe being _allowed_ to rule the Underworld. If, of course, you don’t decide that I’m too powerful to leave alive and in charge once we get there and turn on me.” She mused, giving Phoebe a hard look over her ever-present smile. “And don’t say you wouldn’t.”

“I can’t promise I wouldn’t. But then I have no guarantee that you won’t turn on me in the end. You’re a demon, I’m a white witch. It’s kind of inevitable we’re going to try and kill each other in the future. That doesn’t mean we can’t work towards a common goal now.” Phoebe pointed out.

“Oh, well argued.” Astaroth purred, tapping a blood red fingernail against her blood red lips. “But even if I did join your little crusade, there’s nothing in this deal that says I have to give you what you want. The deal is we work together to bring down the Source, yes? So what’s to stop me from keeping _this_ -” Astaroth’s other hand, which Phoebe hadn’t noticed disappearing into the folds of her cloak, reappeared with a small bottle of dark red liquid. “-to use later?”

Phoebe glanced at Cole and Leo, wide-eyed with shock and a touch of dismay. Cole was looking at the vial with his mouth pressed into a thin line to stop it becoming a grimace, and Leo looked pale and a touch horrified. Phoebe couldn’t blame him. The idea of Astaroth having his blood was much more disturbing now that she’d actually met the woman.

Astaroth laughed gleefully at their stunned faces. “Oh, no, did you think I’d leave it behind? When you went to such trouble to arrange this meeting over it?” None of them answered her, but they didn’t need to. “No, I’m not so foolish as to let such a precious commodity out of my sight at a time like this.” She said, almost chiding them for thinking otherwise. “I _am_ curious, though. If you’re all here, who is it you sent to search my caverns?”

None of them answered that either, and Astaroth’s eyebrows flew upwards in exaggerated surprise. “Such _loyalty_!” She exclaimed. “How interesting.”

“It’s not loyalty, just common courtesy.” Cole corrected.

“Well, how about this? You tell me their name, and I’ll let you go?” Astaroth offered, grinning wickedly. It was only then that Phoebe noticed that her eyes, bright with mirth and mockery, were red. They looked almost human, which was strange on such a powerful demon, except for the fact that her irises were the colour of fresh blood.

“How about you give us Leo’s blood, and _we’ll_ let _you_ go?” Phoebe retorted.

That earned her another laugh, this one more distinctly mocking. “You don’t have the power to hold me, Phoebe.” She said in that supremely annoying chiding tone. “Your magic dampening spell _is_ good, and with it bound to all these ancient bones, I can’t even muster a _spark_. But I haven’t needed active magic to win battles in a long, long time.”

Phoebe was really, really tempted to try kicking her. She’d been studying kick-boxing for almost three years, and utilising it against demons all that time, too. It was only Cole’s hand catching her arm and squeezing warningly that reminded her that Astaroth was probably centuries old, and she certainly wore that armour like she was comfortable in it. _And_ Phoebe could see Celaeno shifting on her feet and flexing her fingers like she was considering lunging at them with claws leading.

“Come now, give me a good reason _not_ to subdue you and hand you over to the Source?” Astaroth invited, spreading her arms in a show of welcome. “I’m flexible, I _can_ be convinced.”

Phoebe could think of a dozen things to say, a dozen reasons to give, but they stuck in her throat, and she couldn’t bring herself to utter any of them. It felt too much like begging for her life, and the indignity sealed her lips, leaving her with only the option of glaring in outrage at Astaroth. The demon looked amused and patient, like she could wait all day for Phoebe to break. Phoebe’s thought stuttered over that observation, twisted, and realisation dawned on her in a blinding rush. “You can, can’t you?” She asked through the beginnings of a grin.

Astaroth blinked once, a politely puzzled expression flitting across her face. “What?”

“You _can_ be convinced, because you don’t _want_ to hand me over to the Source.” Phoebe realised. It was so obvious now that she’d seen it. This whole meeting had just been a game to Astaroth, entertainment watching the pieces scurry about trying to achieve this or that, but it wasn’t a game Astaroth was interested in getting involved in. “Sending the harpies after us was just for show, so that the Source _thinks_ you’re loyal, when you’re not. You’re already plotting against him. Of course you are, why wouldn’t you be? God, I feel so stupid.” Phoebe shook her head at herself, and smiled into the face of Astaroth’s openly startled stare.

“Stalemate.” Cole interjected dryly.

Astaroth sighed, and smiled ruefully. “But I can’t just let you go. Enough people heard that I was coming to this meeting that if I return without you _without_ a good cover story, the Source _will_ hear about it. And I’m not going to hand this over when it’s so _useful_.” She added, wiggling the vial of Leo’s blood in the air to indicate what she was talking about.

They fell into a contemplative silence, all of them caught by the conundrum presented. The silence was shattered by a sudden rumble as the cave began to shake. Phoebe lost her footing and fell into Cole. He tried to catch her, but he was hardly any more stable on the suddenly wobbly ground. Astaroth was better braced, but even she was unbalanced, and Phoebe moved without fully thinking the move through. She used Cole as a prop, forced him to hold her weight as she flung out a kick that connected squarely with the distracted demon’s wrist. The vial of Leo’s blood went flying, and shattered against the bones, spilling crimson drops over the bleached yellow ivory.

“ _How dare-_?!” Astaroth snarled, outraged.

Phoebe flashed her an impish grin. “I saw an opening, and I took it.” She chirped. “Can you blame me?” Astaroth seethed for a moment, ignoring the bones that were beginning to fall from the ceiling and walls in favour of glaring at Phoebe. Her eyes, Phoebe realised with a crawling edge of dread, were _glowing._ Like embers in a hearth, glimmering and gleaming with golden-amber under the red.

The tension abruptly drained out of Astaroth, and she laughed. “No. Well played.” She acknowledged. “I do like you, Phoebe Halliwell. For a white witch, you’re refreshingly honest. Perhaps we would be able to work well together. However, it seems that quake damaged your magic dampening spell.” Astaroth pointed out, and summoned a fire-ball in each hand.

Phoebe dove out of the way of the first one, dragging Cole with her, but the second came flying towards them faster than Phoebe could change direction. Cole twisted them so he was between her and it and Phoebe scrambled to drag them both out of the way, knowing she’d be too late, but needing to try regardless.

Over Cole’s shoulder, she watched as a fire-bolt zipped out of nowhere and collided with with fire-ball inches from Cole’s back. They exploded, knocking Phoebe and Cole back into the wall, but when Phoebe frantically patted at Cole’s back, she found only singed fabric, not damaged skin. Everyone whipped around to see where the bolt came from, and found Xar standing in the entrance, looking peeved.

“Xar!” Astaroth exclaimed in surprise.

“I don’t appreciate being tricked.” Xar drawled, venom lacing his otherwise lazy tone. “And I _really_ don’t appreciate having to murder my way out of such a cheap trap. I thought wasting minions was beneath you, Astaroth.” He focused a hard glare on the demon, who just shrugged.

“It was a trap for Belthazor- Ah, _Cole_ , I mean, not you.” Astaroth pointed out.

Xar rolled his eyes at her, and conjured up a handful of fire-bolts. “Time to go.” Cole breathed in Phoebe’s ear, and shimmered them away. Just before the cave dissolved, Phoebe could have sworn she saw Astaroth wave at them with a beaming smile, before switching the gesture into deflecting the barrage of fire-bolts aimed at her.

Then all Phoebe could see was heat-haze, and then a darkened tunnel. “Leo!” She called, and the tunnel was momentarily illuminated with shining white orbs, before they resolved themselves into Leo. They stood and breathed in the dark for a while, recovering their equilibrium. “Well…” Phoebe breathed eventually. “That was interesting.”


	11. Chapter 11

They retreated to their lair for lack of anywhere better to go, and after a couple of hours, Cole insisted on going to check the small cave in the catacombs alone. Phoebe would have argued, but he shimmered out before she could, and she spent the next half hour alternating between indignant rage and heart-stopping fear. But Cole returned without a scratch, and she was relieved enough to throw herself at him for a hug before she pulled back to yell at him.

“That was reckless!” She accused. “What if they’d still been fighting? What if you’d gotten caught up in it? What if you’d just gotten _caught_ , period? What if-”

Cole put a finger over her lips, halting her mid-rant. “You were right, Astaroth was looking for an excuse to let us go. Xar was a perfect excuse, and she wasn’t going to waste it on little old me even _if_ they managed to keep up a full out battle for this long.” He reminded her, and Phoebe glared. “But I needed to be sure that Leo’s blood had been left alone.”

“And had it?” Leo checked.

Cole nodded. “I took the bones it had splashed on and dropped them all into one of the lava pools. No one’s going to be using your blood against us again.” Leo visibly wilted with relief, and nodded. “Astaroth and Xar _melted_ that room, though. I’m not sure we’ll be able to use it as a bolthole now.”

“Well, Astaroth knows about it, so we probably couldn’t, anyway.” Phoebe reminded him.

“Unfortunately true.” Cole agreed. “Xar will be waiting for us at the new lair.”

“We need different names for these places, or I’m going to start getting confused.” Phoebe announced. “I think that should be our headquarters, since it’s where we’re going to be letting allies in to work with and plan. _This_ can stay our lair, since no one can even walk up to the wards and peer in anymore. It’s pretty nicely secluded, even if Astaroth and the harpies do know where it is. And then we can make a new warded cave just for the three of us and call it our bolthole, make sure no one can track us there, just in case.” She decided.

“Sounds good to me.” Cole agreed, and Leo shrugged indifferently.

“To the headquarters, then.” Phoebe declared, and grabbed hold of both of them so that Cole could shimmer them out. They arrived in their chosen cave, and found Xar already there and waiting with a pair of distinctly nervous minions.

“Finally.” Xar murmured, rolling his eyes.

Phoebe decided to ignore him. “Hello.” She greeted the two lower level demons. They flinched and eyed her like she was about to stab them. “My name’s Phoebe. Who’re you?”

“Ciril and Gobmal.” Xar said for them, gesturing vaguely. The one Phoebe thought was Ciril offered her a tentatively hopeful smile. For low level demonic scum, it was an unfairly adorable expression. “Now, can we get to warding this place before we’re found?” Xar went on impatiently.

Now Phoebe was tempted to roll her eyes. She didn’t, because she didn’t want to sink to Xar’s level, and instead just gave him a dirty look as she nodded. They set about blood-warding the cave, and Phoebe couldn’t fault Xar for the way he watched Cole and the bowl of blood like a hawk, after all the trouble they’d just been through because they’d lost track of a bottle of Leo’s. Ciril and Gobmal didn’t contribute to the defences, not magically powerful enough to bear the strain, but they were added to the heart sigil, so that they could come and go freely.

Then they occupied themselves resupplying. Xar brought a lot of his supplies from wherever he’d been hiding out before, and they raided more from various servants of the Source, traded for others. Phoebe got a premonition out of the blue a few days into their attempt to resupply, one that didn’t quite feel like her usual sort. It was hazed red around the edges, and it took her a moment to realise she was looking at the little room in the catacombs.

When Cole had said it was melted, he hadn’t been kidding. The walls looked more like the sides of a giant candle, with little pools of ivory settling around the edges of the floor, which was shattered like crushed glass. In the middle of it stood Astaroth. Phoebe saw her lay out a warm brown cloth with a pentagram picked out in gold. With an air of ritual, Astaroth placed on the cloth three ribbons, one green, one gold, and one orange, followed by a small voodoo doll made out of straw, a small athame, a handful of orange and red crystals striped with white, a bundle of incense, and a single loaf of bread. Then she lifted her head and seemed to look directly at Phoebe. It sent a shock through Phoebe, and as she felt her physical body react, the red around her vision began to close in.

Astaroth gestured very pointedly to the spread at her feet, blew Phoebe a kiss, and shimmered out just before the vision collapsed. Phoebe shook herself, and commandeered Cole to take her to the cave. She found the cloth and the other items right where they’d been in her vision, and after casting several sensing and magic detection spells over the lot, Phoebe relented and brought the collection back to their headquarters.

It was Leo that gave her an explanation. “Is that _bread_?” He asked when he saw what Phoebe was carrying. Phoebe nodded. Her mouth was already watering. Just because she hadn’t needed to eat since getting stuck down here didn’t mean she didn’t miss food sometimes. “How did you get that down here?” Leo wanted to know, eyes huge.

“It was a… _gift_ , from Astaroth.” Phoebe explained, hesitating to call it a gift, even if that was exactly what it appeared to be.

Leo’s eyebrows flew up. “There’s a demon on the Infernal Council that celebrates Lammas?”

“No.” Cole assured him. “There isn’t.”

“Lammas?” Phoebe echoed, frowning.

Leo and Cole both gave her vaguely judgemental looks, but Cole softened his a moment later. “Your Book of Shadows probably called it Lughnasadh?” He offered.

It took Phoebe a moment to place the word, because Cole said it like ‘loo-na-sath’, and she had only ever seen it written before. “Oh! The harvest sabbat.” She exclaimed once it clicked. Then realisation dawned, and her eyes flew wide. “Wait, it’s August already?” She demanded, looking to Leo for the answer, since he was the one who could sense the sabbats. He nodded.

“Lammas is a few hours away.” Leo admitted, a little sheepish. “Sorry I forgot to mention it.”

In honour of the day, they sat down around a hastily assembled altar, and Phoebe burned the incense and spoke a small invocation for change and good luck, and they shared out the bread. Xar refused to participate in any white magic, but Phoebe convinced Ciril and Gobmal to sit with them by bribing them with a share of the bread. They were interested, but a little baffled by it, unlike Cole, who savoured it right along with Leo and Phoebe. Phoebe couldn’t explain why it made her cry, tasting fresh bread again after two and a half months down here, but it did, and Leo and Cole didn’t seem to need an explanation, so she didn’t try very hard to search for one.

After Lughnasadh, Phoebe finally felt secure enough in their new headquarters, and well supplied enough, to finally put her plan with the siderite crystals into motion. She’d been charging them up the whole time, whenever she had a couple of hours to herself, and now all five of them were glowing bright with leashed power. Xar showed her a tunnel that was used by messenger demons to access certain well-warded caverns belonging to high level demons, even some of the Council. Most messenger demons could teleport one way or another, but that didn’t help them get into places that were warded against those things, so they had supposedly secret tunnels that led to them. Phoebe hid her crystals in a square formation behind larger rocks so their glow wouldn’t give them away, and took the fifth with her, enchanted to react when the rest activated. Then she had to wait.

It wasn’t long before the one she’d kept with her went from gentle glow to bright light. “Yes!” Phoebe cheered, and leapt up to grab Xar and Cole.

When she turned to Leo, however, he took a step back. “I think I’ll pass on torturing anyone, thank you.” He said dryly. Phoebe shrugged, her enthusiasm dampened by Leo’s disapproval, but not nearly enough to stop her.

They arrived in the tunnel to the sound of screaming echoing disturbingly from the curved stone walls. Phoebe winced and leapt to kick one of the crystals out of alignment. The moment the electric net faded, the screaming petered out into ragged gasping, and Phoebe allowed herself a moment to study their captive. He was a generic low level messenger demon, small and weedy looking, with the same hang-dog air that Ciril and Gobmal had. He might have been handsome, if he hadn’t looked rather gaunt, with tan skin and springy black curls that nonetheless stuck to his face with sweat.

Xar huffed and kicked at the messenger’s foot. “All that screaming will have drawn attention.” He groused. “We won’t have long to question him.”

The messenger’s eyes widened almost comically, and his form began to ripple. Cole lunged, lips pulled into a snarl, dropping one knee on the demon’s chest and catching his throat in one hand. That hand warped, growing and turning red for a moment, claws pricking at bronze skin, before it reverted to its more human shade and size. “ _Don’t_.” Cole warned, a touch of gravel in his voice.

The messenger demon went very still.

“Cole, could you shimmer with him?” Phoebe asked. She worried a little when Cole didn’t look up at her, but he did nod, so she marshalled herself and pushed the worry to one side. “Right, then. Let me just collect my crystals, and we’ll be off.”

“What?” Xar asked.

Phoebe set about plucking up her crystals from their hiding places. With Cole pinning their prisoner, she didn’t have to worry about the net keeping him contained any more. “You didn’t think we were going to stick around here, where messengers come through fairly regularly, and, like you said, someone will eventually hear him screaming and come running?” She checked, as two and three got tucked into the bag next to their fellows.

“You can’t take him back to the- _headquarters_.” Xar stressed the name like he was baffled by Phoebe’s _perfectly reasonable_ need to differentiate between their different hide-outs.

“No, it’s warded.” Phoebe reminded him. “There are plenty of out-of-the-way caves in the underworld.” She added, picked up crystal number four, and turned to give Xar an unimpressed look. “How many decades have you been on the run from the Source, and you _haven’t_ gone exploring? Boy, were you sleeping on the job or what?”

Xar glared at her as she stepped up next to Cole and grabbed his shoulder. The muscles under her hand were tight with tension, so she squeezed a little, half reassurance, half warning. “Are you expecting me to track your shimmer?” Xar asked disdainfully.

“Could you?” Phoebe challenged.

Xar rolled his eyes. “From this close? Probably.”

“Then yes.” Phoebe replied, resisting the temptation to mimic him. “Let’s go.” She added to Cole, and he went, taking both her and their captive with him. He landed them in a small cave lit with ruddy light that seemed to ooze from just below the low-slung ceiling, leaving a lot of oddly shaped shadows dancing along the roof. “Hold him for just a moment longer, okay?” Phoebe checked, patting Cole’s shoulder in a manner she hoped was reassuring.

“Right.” Cole agreed, and at least he sounded entirely like himself that time.

Xar appeared as Phoebe was setting up the crystals again, this time in a pentagram instead of a square. She kept the last one in her hand, though, and sat down cross-legged in front of the place where it was supposed to go. “Okay, out of the circle quick, Cole.” Phoebe warned.

Cole rose to his feet and backed out of the ring of crystals very quickly indeed. The messenger demon’s gaze flicked between him, Phoebe, and Xar in rapid succession, and then he tried to shimmer out again. Phoebe dropped the fifth crystal into place before he could.

Lightning arched. The demon, forced solid again by the electricity surging through him, screamed and seized. Phoebe picked up the crystal, and the electricity stopped abruptly. The demon slumped, panting. “That’s what happens if you: One, try to escape. Two, refuse to answer my questions. And three, lie to me. It might also happen if you give me lip, but I’ll try to be forgiving. So, for starters, let’s go with something really easy: What’s your name?”

The demon glared at her, but he looked shaky and frightened. His eyes darted from her to Cole and back again, then he swallowed and said, very quietly. “Tarath.”

“Hello, Tarath. I’m Phoebe Halliwell.” Phoebe replied, as if they were sitting down to tea.

Tarath went so pale he appeared grey even in the reddish light. “Oh, _hell…_ ” He breathed, breathing going from deep pants to fluttery gasps that were just an inch away from hyperventilating. “I’m- I’m not- I don’t know _anything_ about the Source, or- or what he did to seal the Underworld, or- I’m just a _courier_ , I don’t know-” He began to rant.

“ _Just_ a courier?” Phoebe interrupted, eyebrows raised. “Whose courier?”

“L-Leraikhe.” Tarath stammered.

Xar started to grin. “You work for the High Council, do you, boy?” He asked, leaning forwards intently. “So you _must_ know something useful. Did you really think you could get away with that helpless ‘I don’t know anything’ routine?”

“I- I _don’t_ , I swear!” Tarath insisted.

“Well, what message were you delivering just now?” Phoebe asked pleasantly.

“J-just a message a-about the infighting. Nothing important.”

Phoebe frowned, leaning in a little. “Infighting?”

“The-” Tarath began, then stopped as Xar scoffed and turned away with a roll of his eyes. He glanced at Xar, then back to Phoebe, who waved a hand for him to go on, so he did. “B-because of the Underworld being- being sealed?” He asked more than said. “All the demons who ought to be going to the mortal world are stuck, so-” He stopped and shrugged helplessly, then froze, as if he wasn’t sure if movement at all was allowed. When Phoebe didn’t shock him for it, he relaxed a little bit. “They’re restless and annoyed about not being able to go anywhere or do anything, so they’re picking fights with each other. It’s what we _do_.”

“So the low level demons are squabbling, and why does this… Leraikay?” Phoebe questioned.

“Leraikhe.” Cole corrected, making the ‘kh’ sound into something that grated in the back of the throat. Phoebe wondered if she’d ever be able to pronounce the name right.

“Right. Why does she want to know?” Phoebe finished her original question.

“B-because some of them are under her direct command? She’s-” Tarath stopped talking abruptly, mouth snapping shut so fast his teeth clicked.

Phoebe narrowed her eyes. “She’s _what_ , Tarath?” She asked warningly. Tarath’s chin wobbled, but he didn’t say another word. The crystal was dropped again, and the sounds of crackling energy and agonised screaming filled the cave, bouncing back off the low ceiling and echoing weirdly. After half a minute, Phoebe picked the crystal up again. “She’s _what_ , Tarath?” She repeated in exactly the same tone.

“A w-warlord.” Tarath gasped out, lying flat on his back and not bothering to look at anyone anymore. “It’s h-her j-job to keep the- the troops in order.”

“I see.” Phoebe nodded. “And does she report directly to the Source?”

Tarath shook his head, although the motion was hard to distinguish from the rest of his writhing and twitching. “O-only if- if she gets news a-about _you_.” Tarath added.

“Who _does_ she report to?” Phoebe asked. “Anyone? Or is she left to her own devices?”

“She’s probably mostly autonomous, but I imagine she keeps Bael updated every now and then, doesn’t she?” Cole asked. Tarath nodded, face screwed up with misery. Phoebe _almost_ felt bad for him. He was just so pathetic, she couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for him. “Bael is the… probably the most powerful member of the Infernal Council. Certainly one of the oldest.” Cole explained for Phoebe’s benefit, shifting a little closer to stand at her shoulder.

“How old?”

“Rumours say two millennia, but no one really knows.”

Phoebe wilfully repressed the urge to squeak at that number. She composed herself, then turned back to Tarath. “So, what is Leraike-”

“Leraikhe.” Cole corrected mildly.

“Shut up, I know.” Phoebe groused. “What is she up to these days, besides squashing insubordination?”

“That- that’s mostly it.” Tarath assured her.

“Are you lying to me, Tarath?” Phoebe asked him, keeping her tone conversational.

“No!” Tarath exclaimed. “The hunt for you is all anyone c-cares about, and Leraikhe is a _fighter_ , not a tracker. It’s not something she’s in-involved in.” He protested, and when Phoebe glanced at Cole to confirm, he tipped his head in a reluctant nod.

Xar sighed, exasperated. “And you know _nothing_ about what the Source is planning? Where he’s going? Who he’s relying on most in these _difficult_ times?” He pressed, glaring at Tarath, who shook his head desperately. Xar clicked his tongue in annoyance, and summoned up a little dart of fire at the tip of one finger. “Then we have no more use for you.”

“No!” Phoebe barked.

Xar turned his flicking motion into a fist at the last moment, snuffing the fire-bolt that had been seconds away from shooting their prisoner. He rounded on Phoebe with a sneer. “Why _not_? He’s proved his worthlessness! Or is the white witch getting soft-hearted and sentimental about the poor, weak, cringing bottom-feeder?” He mocked.

Tarath perked up, but Phoebe only gave Xar a deeply annoyed look. “Because _I_ have more questions, and I won’t get any answers if he’s a pile of ash!” Tarath wilted, and Phoebe really did start to feel bad. The last demon they’d caught like this – that wasn’t Cole – had been defiant and snarly, not quietly terrified and compliant. “So, you really don’t know who the Source is working with?” She checked.

Tarath swallowed. “The Council?”

“I meant specifically.” Phoebe corrected, more gently than she really meant to.

Tarath shook his head. “No, I’m not- I don’t carry those sorts of messages.”

Phoebe pouted, disappointed, but she hadn’t really expected him to change his answer. She wondered if he might be faking, pretending to be frightened and compliant to get them to believe his lies, or just trying to win sympathy from the ‘soft-hearted and sentimental white witch’. But either way, she was going to get answers to her questions, and, well, _then_ she’d figure out if she was going to vanquish him or not. “Okay. What about people who _don’t_ like the Source?” Phoebe asked.

Tarath stared at her, wide-eyed and so completely bewildered that he didn’t seem to be _thinking_ in words, let alone able to string them together into a sentence. Phoebe raised her eyebrows and leaned forwards with the crystal in her hand. Tarath’s eyes jumped to it, then back to her face again. “I… don’t- What do you- m-mean?” He squeaked out.

“I mean,” Phoebe began, slow and patient like she was talking to a particularly dimwitted child. She also gestured at Xar rather pointedly. “I’ve heard the story of how Xar here tried to assassinate the Source. Tell me another story like that. Preferably one where the main character doesn’t die or wind up topside at the end.” Phoebe instructed, pointing idly towards the ceiling.

Tarath hesitated, though whether that was because he was thinking of something to tell her, or thinking about _whether_ he should tell her, she wasn’t sure. Phoebe resolved to wait patiently for now. She _did_ make a bit of a show of playing with the crystal in her hand, just to remind him it was there, and what she could do with it. “I, uh… there’s, um… the Vampires?” He offered.

“They live in the mortal world now.” Cole interjected. “Try again.”

“Th-they come down here sometimes.” Tarath insisted, a little eagerly, almost desperate for them to believe him. Phoebe didn’t think that was faked for their benefit, that hope that if he was useful, they might let him go. If he was feigning it, he’d be more likely to play a slightly smarter role. “There’s a series of caverns they use s-sometimes, I ran messages for them once when they were appealing to the Council for- for amnesty because they had a new Queen.”

“So… they were exiled for betraying the Source, but now they have a new leader, they want to be on the Source’s side again?” Phoebe paraphrased, and Tarath wilted. “Anyone _else_?” Phoebe pressed.

Tarath’s eyes darted all over the place, and he mouthed helplessly, but no words came out. Phoebe waited, but she could see his panic levels rising the longer he failed to come up with any names. “I- I don’t know!” He wailed abruptly. “There’s revolutions and revolts all the time, but the Source always just _kills them_ , and if he doesn’t, he exiles them, and I can’t _think_ \- Please don’t vanquish me!”

Phoebe sighed. “Really?” She asked wearily. “There aren’t any stories you can think of, of demons who stood up to the Source and got away with it?”

“He- he doesn’t r-really encourage that kind of…” Tarath mumbled.

“No, of course he doesn’t.” Phoebe grumbled. She tossed the crystal into the air and caught it, toying with it idly as she thought. “No legends? Names that get whispered about in secret? Hell, even stories everyone _knows_ can’t be true, but they tell them anyway, and secretly you wonder if it might not be a little bit true?”

Tarath’s eyes flickered away from her again, shoulders hunching, and Phoebe was about to give up, and resign herself to her next problem. Before she could, Cole rested a hand on her shoulder as he leaned forwards. “You just thought of something.” Cole stated with complete conviction. “Tell us what. Now.”

“It’s- it’s just an o-old story, it’s not-” Tarath began.

“I asked for stories.” Phoebe reminded him. “Tell it to me. Like you heard it.”

“W-well…” Tarath began, then visibly gathered himself. “There’s… um, b-back when the Source f-first rose to power, Zankou was supposed to have been one of the demons who supported him. Along with Dane and The Seer and Naphula and Dagon.” Phoebe made a mental note to ask Cole about those names later, and gestured for Tarath to go on. “He’s- he’s a legend, they say he started the Black Death-” Tarath’s eyes gleamed with awe, and Phoebe felt a little sick. But, well, she couldn’t really fault the guy when she was already wondering if this Zankou guy could be made an ally, regardless of past sins. “A-anyway!” Tarath hastened on, perhaps reading Phoebe’s expression of distaste.

“The Black Death?” Cole asked. “I tried for years to find out who started that, no one would tell me.” He complained. Phoebe glanced up to see him pouting, and she bit her lip to hold back her smile. He was adorable when he was disgruntled, but she didn’t want him to know she found it cute.

Tarath squeaked. “Um… W-well, they- they wouldn’t tell you, um, sir! Y-you’re an- an upper level demon, and y-you knew the- the Source.” He explained. “No one wants to- to go telling stories about his allies b-betraying him to the Source’s n-new allies.”

Cole huffed in annoyance, and Tarath cringed. “So, this Zankou betrayed the Source?” Phoebe asked, to get them back on track.

Tarath nodded at once. “Th-that’s the story, anyway. He w-wanted power, so he took it, and eventually, all that was left was the Source’s power, and he t-tried to take that too. The Source c-couldn’t kill him, they, uh, they say Zankou was- was _too strong_ -” He whispered the last words, as if the Source might hear him if he spoke to too loudly, and show up just to smite him for speaking such sacrilege. “So he just imprisoned him, instead.”

“ _Where_?” Phoebe demanded.

“N-no one knows!” Tarath yelped, recoiling. “It’s- it’s just a _story_! Like _Lucifer_. He wasn’t _real_!”

“But Zankou _is_ a real demon?” Phoebe pressed, glancing at Cole for the answer more than Tarath.

Cole just shrugged. “Could be. Could be he was made up and the Black Death got attributed to him because it’s one of those things that no one’s taken credit for, and everyone _wants_ to take credit for. I think I might have heard the name before, so I’d bet on him being real.”

Phoebe nodded, setting this new task on her to-do list. “If he is real, we’ll find him.” She stated with all the conviction she could muster. Cole flicked her a glance and the beginnings of a fond smile. “Which just leaves us with one last problem.” She added, looking back at Tarath, who whimpered and started begging.

“I was _right_.” Xar muttered, rolling his eyes at her again, which made Tarath pause and look at her hopefully.

Phoebe glared at them both, feeling manipulated and hating it. “Phoebe.” Cole began, gently chiding, and Phoebe dropped her gaze at once, feeling petulant. “We don’t have the resources to keep prisoners. We either kill him, or we let him go.” Phoebe blew out a breath, annoyed by his logic. “If we let him go, the Source will find out we’re looking for Zankou. If he’s not real, the Source gets a good laugh out of it. If he _is_ real-”

“The Source will be madder than a bull with red waved in front of it, and he’ll know where we’re going to end up.” Phoebe concluded regretfully.

“I won’t tell him!” Tarath swore, wide-eyed and earnest.

“You told _us_ everything we wanted to know.” Cole pointed out dryly. “And the Source won’t be any _nicer_ asking about us.” He added, which made Tarath cringe and hunch down so much his shoulders were almost level with his ears.

“M-maybe I c-could just… s-stay with you?” Tarath asked hopefully.

Phoebe blinked, startled by the idea, but… it didn’t seem like a terrible idea. They could keep an eye on him, she didn’t have to murder such a pathetic creature in cold blood, and he might even prove useful. If Xar got to keep minions, after all, why couldn’t she?

“No.” Cole said.

Phoebe looked up at him, tipping her head back to rest it against his knee, and batted her lashes at him. “Oh, _please_ can we keep it?” She begged, in an overly childish tone. Cole snorted, and nudged her with the leg she was leaning on.

“You don’t really want it, you just don’t want to kill it.” He told her, not looking overly impressed.

Phoebe grimaced. “I’m not going to deny that.” She acknowledged. “But you’re right that we can’t let him go, so I don’t see what else we can do.”

“Letting him into any of our hideouts, giving him any access to us and our operation at all is just as much of a risk as letting him go.” Cole pointed out, and Phoebe flinched. “He’s _acting_ like a pathetic low level worm, but there’s a chance he’s just _very_ good at being underestimated, and he’s planning on using your kindness to spy on us and sell us out to the Source.”

“I know.” Phoebe breathed.

Cole considered her for a long moment, looking conflicted, as though he was struggling with something. “If you want… I can drop you back at headquarters, and come back to deal with him.” He offered carefully, quietly, almost _gently_.

Phoebe was a little ashamed to admit she thought about it. She couldn’t, she just _couldn’t_ let anything get in the way of killing the Source. And Tarath could be an obstacle to her goal, even unintentionally. Letting him go was more repulsive to her than killing him, but that didn’t make killing him an _appealing_ option. “I don’t…” She began, and then cut herself off, frustrated, and hating that there were simply no good options.

“Oh, for the love of sin!” Xar burst out, and flung a fire-bolt at Tarath.

Phoebe moved on instinct. She hadn’t managed to settle Tarath in the box reserved for ‘threats’, which left him hovering uncertainly next to the category of ‘innocent’, even though she knew he was a demon, and knew he could be tricking her. It wasn’t a decision, just instinct. Seeing fire being thrown at someone she didn’t _know_ was out to kill her.

She put herself between them. Cole made a strangled noise of mingled frustration and rage, and lunged himself, even though they both knew he’d be too late. Phoebe brought up her shiny new knife, the gift from Astaroth, even though she had no idea if it could work to deflect a fire-bolt, it was better than letting it hit her straight on.

It did one better than deflecting the fire-bolt. It absorbed it. The fire vanished as it brushed by the knife, and the blade gleamed momentarily with unholy fire, and then it went back to normal. Phoebe stared at it, impressed and pleased, and only looked up when she heard Cole _growl_.

She jerked her head up to see that _Belthazor_ had Xar in a choke-hold, and was growling furiously right next to the rather pale demon’s ear. “Cole?” Phoebe asked, surprised. The growling got a bit lower, more gravelly and annoyed-sounding, but didn’t stop. After a moment, Phoebe decided that since Belthazor wasn’t attacking anyone, she could wait to make sure he was okay until after she’d dealt with Xar. “Are you going to attack again?” She asked coldly.

“You useless, sentimental, foolish-” Xar began viciously, and then choked on his words as Belthazor tightened his grip, teeth bared alarmingly close to the fragile skin over Xar’s pulse. It was a deeply threatening gesture, even though Xar couldn’t see it. Phoebe could, and she was surprised to find that it didn’t actually bother her, emotionally. It might piss her off her to lose an ally, but she was still deeply annoyed at Xar, and while some of that could undoubtedly be put down to his first faux pas, his attitude since then hadn’t much helped his case, in her opinion.

“ _You’re_ the fool!” Belthazor snarled furiously. “If you’d just let me talk to her, let her make her own mind up, she might have admitted we were _right_ , but now he’s someone she needs to _protect_ , so she will.” He announced, and Phoebe felt hear heart skip at the proof that Belthazor really was just another side of Cole, to know her that well. There really was _no chance_ of her agreeing even to letting someone _else_ kill Tarath now. “Even though she knows it’s _stupid_.” Belthazor added in frustration, shooting Phoebe a glare that was distinctly peeved. Phoebe’s heart skipped again, and this time, it was a less pleasant feeling.

But Phoebe wasn’t one to run from fear. She stood her ground, and glared right back. “Stupid or not, no one’s killing him. Not on my watch.” She confirmed for them, just in case Xar needed to hear it twice. Phoebe was entirely unsurprised when, even being choked by Belthazor, Xar still had it in him to roll his eyes at her.

“Thank you, Mistress!” Tarath exclaimed.

Phoebe blinked. “Wow, that makes me sound like a brothel madam.” She muttered, and Belthazor snorted. The sound got strangely distorted as he shifted back into Cole halfway through. Phoebe smiled in relief, but Cole didn’t seem to see it, staggering a step away from Xar and shaking his head like he was too disoriented to take anything in properly. “Cole?” She called again.

“Fine.” Cole assured her, entirely unconvincingly.

“You sure?” Phoebe checked.

Cole huffed, part amusement, part annoyance. “Yes, I’m sure.” He stressed.

Phoebe pursed her lips and threw her hands up in faux-surrender. Then she turned to Tarath, who was on his feet but still inside the incomplete right of crystals, smiling hopefully at her. “Do you think you could call me just Phoebe?” She asked, hardly daring to hope it would be that easy.

Tarath looked actually taken aback by that suggestion, but he nodded anyway. “Okay, Phoebe.” He agreed simply.

“We’ll need his blood to add him to the heart sigil.” Cole pointed out.

To Phoebe’s surprise, Tarath held out an arm with very little hesitation. When she stared at him in surprise, he just shrugged, looking pained and sheepish. “If you wanted to hurt me, you don’t exactly need my blood to do it.” He pointed out, glancing down at the crystals still strewn around his feet.

“True.” Phoebe acknowledged without an ounce of guilt. She caught hold of his wrist, and poked the tip of his finger with the tip of a plain old athame. She didn’t want to risk vanquishing him _by accident_ , after all. Blood beaded up, and she turned his hand and squeezed until she’d caught three drops on the tip of the blade. Then she passed the blade to Cole. “Can you…?”

“I’m not leaving you alone with either of them.” Cole stated coldly.

“Okay, you can take Xar with you.” Phoebe pointed out, and Cole nodded, but shot a deeply mistrustful look at Tarath. “If Tarath turns on me, I’ll just stick him back in the siderite cage and wait for him to stop convulsing.” She added, and Cole glared a moment longer before relenting.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick apology that I'm not replying to comments in a timely fashion. I read and appreciate every single one, and they keep me doggedly chipping away at the last two chapters of this, so thank you.

Nothing seemed to change. Phoebe had a new purpose, a new goal, but actually finding any solid information on Zankou was next to impossible. Most demons would deny ever having hear the name, even after judicious application of a siderite cage, and those that broke and admitted to hearing the stories could never offer any facts to go along with it.

Tarath was an interesting addition to their group. No one really trusted him, even Phoebe didn’t trust him, but she didn’t entirely dislike him the way Leo and Xar certainly did. He stayed quiet and kept to himself most of the time, excepting the moments when he thought he could be helpful. Cole very obviously didn’t trust him, but Phoebe couldn’t get a more personal opinion out of him. He’d clammed up since they’d brought Tarath into the fold, and Phoebe had a horrible feeling he was mad at her about the whole thing. She didn’t want to ask him about it in case she was right, and he didn’t seem to want to shout at her about it like he had every other time she’d done something he didn’t like, so she resolved to give him space and hope he got over it in his own time.

So it was Leo, not Cole, who took Phoebe to the cave in the catacombs when the search for _any_ solid information on Zankou was starting to feel hopeless, to leave a message for Astaroth. She’d written out a note, just a scrap of vellum with ‘ _Do you know anything about Zankou?_ ’ written on it. After a great deal of thought, Phoebe had eventually decided to add ‘ _PS Thank you for the supplies_ ’ even though it felt strangely like giving ground.

“It’s admitting you owe her something.” Leo had pointed out, reading over her shoulder.

“If she can answer my question about Zankou, I think I will owe her something.” Phoebe replied, and Leo didn’t say another word. So Phoebe had left the postscript in, and they’d gone to deliver the note. Phoebe set it in the middle of the floor, where it was fairly easy to see, and then stepped back, frowning. “I have no idea how to let her know it’s here. It’s not like I can send  _her_ a premonition.”

Leo shrugged. “I don’t think you can without drawing attention to the fact that she’s helping you, and if you do that, she’ll be forced to hunt you again to prove it’s not true.”

“So I just have to leave it and hope?” Phoebe asked, not really needing an answer. She still wasn’t happy about it. Leo just shrugged, and offered her his hand. Phoebe didn’t take it, still tangled up in her thoughts. “I wish I could get a premonition about him. Just something to prove I’m not chasing fairy tales.” She muttered.

The words fell heavy into the silence, despite how quietly she was speaking, and she sighed in frustration, shooting one last glare at the paper before turning to Leo. She didn’t want to go back to their headquarters, but she couldn’t bear to stay here any longer, either. But Leo didn’t notice that she was ready to go, gaze gone distant. He startled when she took his hand, and turned to stare at her with a thoughtful wrinkle between his brows. “Maybe we’re doing this the wrong way round.”

“What?” Phoebe asked, blinking at him.

“This… chasing down rumours of Zankou. Zankou  _might_ turn out to be just a fairy tale, but… you said Tarath said that Zankou was supposed to have started the Black Death?” Leo checked.

Phoebe nodded slowly. “And Cole said that no one actually knew who had done that, so it  _could_ have been Zankou.” She added.

Leo nodded. “So… maybe we need to be investigating who started the Black Death, not trying to find Zankou. There must be some relics down here from that time, so maybe you can get a premonition off one? And if it turns out it wasn’t Zankou, then we were probably chasing a myth anyway.”

“ _And_ whoever started the Black Death might be willing to work with us. Or we might have to vanquish them if they’re still loyal to the Source. Either way, we achieve something worthwhile.” Phoebe agreed, warming to this new plan. “Good idea, Leo.”

Leo managed a half-hearted smile that nonetheless looked sincere, just very tired. Phoebe matched him with a smile of her own that was full of sympathetic hurt and fondness. They returned to the headquarters, only to find that it was empty except for the minions. Irritation had Phoebe blowing out a harsh sigh and going to poke at her altar while she tried to wait patiently for Cole to get back. “Do any of you know where Cole went?” She asked of the minions.

“He and Xar were going to see if they could find any leads on Zankou.” Ciril informed her with a smile of greeting.

Phoebe nodded, and fiddled with her collection of incense, resorting them. “Do you know if any demons have kept any… relics?” She asked.

Ciril and Gobmal exchanged looks, then shrugged. “Sure?” Ciril offered. “A lot of them do. Old things have power, and sometimes they just like to show off.” His smile was indulgent and oddly fond, like he was discussing the quirks of a favoured aunt. “Some can be more sentimental than others, of course, but it’s fairly common, in my experience.”

Phoebe considered that. “How easy would it be to steal some?” She asked.

That earned her a startled look. “Well… easier than killing the demons.” He admitted, but he looked uncertain. “And some you might be able to sneak in and steal, they don’t always guard their things as well as they could, especially if they’ve lived long enough to forget they have some of them. But… why?”

For a moment, Phoebe considered telling the truth. Then she remembered that Tarath was listening, and that Ciril and Gobmal were loyal to Xar first, and not to her. So instead, she just shrugged. “Could be fun.” She announced, instead of explaining her plan.

Ciril seemed to understand what she wasn’t saying anyway, because his smile turned rueful, and he nodded and let her be instead of asking any more questions. Phoebe fiddled with her altar a little longer, but soon enough the tension vibrating under her skin forced her to action, despite her better judgement telling her she ought to wait for Cole. She switched from aimless fiddling to preparing for battle, tucking potions into her pockets and strapping daggers and athames to her arms and legs.

“Phoebe?” Leo asked warily.

“I’m not sitting around waiting for them to get back.” Phoebe informed him. “Lets go rob someone.” She added as an invitation, glancing around at all the minions to extend the invitation to them as well. Her eyes landed on Tarath and she brightened. “Oh! I don’t suppose you know where Leraikie-”

“Leraikhe.” Leo corrected, and Phoebe flapped a dismissive hand at him.

“Her. I don’t suppose you know where she keeps her relics and mementos?” Phoebe concluded, not giving the interruption much mind.

Tarath looked terrified by the question, and Phoebe supposed that was fair. She was asking him to betray a fairly powerful demon, and this time, she wasn’t threatening to vanquish him if he didn’t. “I, uh…” Tarath began, eyes darting to the other people in the room, then back to Phoebe. She wondered if she’d have to threaten him to get him to cooperate, but she rather thought the threat was implied anyway. “Yes.” He admitted finally, wilting.

“Excellent.” Phoebe patted him on the shoulder as she passed him and went to stand by Leo, who was just strapping his sword to his hip. “Did you see where I set up my siderite crystal trap?” She asked him, frowning faintly. Leo shook his head. “Well, damn.” She reluctantly turned back to Tarath. “I guess we’re just going to have to trust you to take us where we need to go.” She informed him, going over to throw an arm around his shoulders. “But if you lead us into a trap, I’ll kill you first.” Phoebe assured him, poking his side with the knife Astaroth had given her.

“I won’t!” Tarath squeaked.

Leo stepped up beside her and took loose hold of her elbow. Ciril and Gobmal exchanged looks. “Do… do you want us to come as well?” Gobmal offered.

“If you’d like to.” Phoebe replied, and they shared another look before nodding and coming over to attach themselves to Tarath’s other side. Tarath whimpered, face screwed up in terrified resignation, and shimmered them all out of the headquarters and into a large tunnel. “So, where’s this?” Phoebe asked, relaxing a little and putting her athame away since they hadn’t appeared in the middle of an ambush, but she didn’t let go of Tarath just yet.

“It’s, uh… Leraikhe uses the caverns up ahead as a sort of storehouse for old weapons and armour and… and trophies and such. Not- I mean, not the more recent, or favourite ones, those she keeps in her personal rooms, but… but I thought you wouldn’t want to, uh… actually run into her, so…” Tarath trailed off uncertainly.

“Good thinking.” Phoebe agreed, patting him on the shoulder. “And the caverns are warded against shimmering and so on?” She checked.

Tarath nodded. “It’s just a simple curse, nothing… nothing as advanced as blood wards.” He explained with an awkward shrug, trying so carefully not to jostle Phoebe that it was clear he was very uncomfortable with her so close. “The doors are guarded, but… I don’t think you’d have any trouble getting past them?” He offered.

“Mm.” Phoebe decided not to respond to that. She’d gotten the jump on Tarath by being sneaky, and intimidated the hell out of him when she had Cole and Xar there to back her up. That wasn’t to say she couldn’t fight, and fight fairly well, but she was very aware that even the lowest level demons had active powers, where she didn’t. “Okay, let’s go.” She decided, and let go of Tarath to start up the tunnel. “Leo, keep an eye on him.” She ordered.

“Will do.” Leo agreed mildly.

The tunnel twisted and curled and dipped and rose and branched off all over the place. Phoebe let Tarath lead, even though every time he pointed them down a specific fork, she wondered if she wasn’t making a mistake. They came up to a corner, and Tarath stopped dead. He glanced back at Phoebe, then pointed at the corner and held up two fingers. Phoebe guessed that meant two guards, but she edged up to the corner anyway and peeked around an outcropping of rock to check for herself.

There were two guards. Both of them big and burly and bald, shirtless and glowering down the tunnel with the set, fixed-stare expressions of people who’d been on watch for a long time and had gone straight past bored. Phoebe ducked back around the corner, and beckoned Leo forwards. “You think a plain old vanquish would do?” She asked him in a hushed voice.

Leo grimaced. “Maybe? I really don’t know. They look like standard brute demons, but they’re supposed to be solitary, so I really couldn’t say for sure.”

“Tarath?” Phoebe questioned, wondering if he knew anything, but Tarath shrugged helplessly, looking a little desperate. Phoebe decided to let him be for now. “Okay. Maybe I can try something else, instead…” She murmured, then closed her eyes so that she could concentrate better. “ _Guardians of the warrior’s keep, let these words send you off to sleep._ ” Phoebe recited, just loud enough for the demons to hear her. They stiffened as she began, and advanced forwards, only to stagger and stumble as she finished her spell.

One growled, the other shook himself like a dog, and then they charged forwards, not slowed down in the least. “Damn!” Phoebe cursed, and hurled herself out of the way as the demons charged right  _through_ their protective rock formation, sending rubble flying in every direction. “I’d need some poppy and valerian to really make that one work, I think.” Phoebe muttered to herself, snatching an athame and hurling it at one of the brute demons.

He dodged the knife and came after her like a battering ram. Phoebe ducked the first swipe he made for her head, and came up under his guard to drive another athame under his ribs. He made a choked sound, eyes bulging in surprise, and staggered backwards to look down at the knife stuck in his side in complete shock. Then he looked back up at Phoebe with  _fury_ etched across his face. “Oh come on!” Phoebe protested.

Then she was forced to throw herself sideways to avoid his next charge. She hit the ground hard, and rolled to a stop only a few feet away from the wall. She lurched to her feet just in time to avoid being stomped on, and lashed out with another of her knives. She caught him across the arm, and it wasn’t until the wound erupted into flame that Phoebe realised it was the athame Astaroth had given her.

Phoebe looked down at it, thoroughly impressed. It had absorbed that fire-bolt from Xar, and either it had taken on its properties, or had reflected that attack onto the next thing it cut. Either way, Phoebe was never going to give up this dagger. She looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of a huge fist before it crashed into her face and her whole world dissolved into disorienting pain.

Something hit her hard in the back, jarring her head and making her vision spin even behind her closed eyelids. When the whirling and tilting stopped, Phoebe peeled her eyes open, and blinked at a view of… doors. Big metal doors. That was right, she was here to steal stuff from one of the Council. She turned her head, and then stopped as the world swooped and washes of strange colours drifted across her vision. Concussion.  _Great_ . That was just what she needed.

Boots appeared in her line of sight. She blinked, and carefully risked looking up to see one of the brute demons standing over her, grinning nastily. He bent down, and grabbed her by the throat to haul her up. The entire world looped over itself, and if Phoebe hadn’t been living off ambient magic for the last two months, she might have thrown up. Anger at her own helplessness made her grit her teeth against the pain, refusing to let it slow her down any more than she could help. She clenched her hands into fists, and was surprised to find she still had her dagger in hand.

A dagger with this demon’s blood on it.

Phoebe didn’t know much blood magic, just enough to know that blood meant power, and having someone’s blood meant having control over them. She shifted her grip and pressed her thumb over the flat of the blade, smearing the blood still coating it. She opened her mouth to try a spell, but the demon shook her like a rag doll and slammed her into the cave wall, jarring her already damaged head and knocking coherent thought right out of it for several long, important seconds.

By the time she could scrape enough thoughts together to remember her plan, the demon’s fist was already tightening around her throat, cutting off her air. Phoebe kneed him in the side, and he grunted, but didn’t let go, so she did it again. This time, he snarled and used his impressively large body to pin her against the wall. It was an effective hold, but for just a moment, his grip on her throat slackened, and Phoebe gulped down a rasping breath, and blurted out “ _By blood I command thee!_ ” and the demon shuddered and recoiled.

Warmth buzzed under Phoebe’s thumb, the blood suddenly feeling like it was more  _alive_ than Phoebe could have imagined. Before she could get another word out, however, the demon bellowed wordlessly in fear-fuelled rage, and grabbed for her again. Phoebe twisted to the side, tumbling and falling but avoiding the grab. “ _By blood I compel thee!_ ” Phoebe shouted, even though it tore at her now aching throat. The demon shuddered again, his movements becoming jerky and uncoordinated as he tried to grab at her again, giving Phoebe plenty of time to get away from him.

She managed to roll onto her knees in the middle of the tunnel, nearly backed up against the doors to the storage caverns, and she decided to stay there rather than risk trying to stand and upsetting her balance again. “ _All your power and the strength of your arm, I bind now so you may do no more harm._ ” Phoebe chanted, and the demon’s eyes bulged. “ _By blood I command thee! By blood I compel thee!_ ” She repeated, putting as much force of will behind her words as she could.

The demon crumpled, sagging to his knees and hunching over with a sound of agonised loss. And under Phoebe’s hand, the blood on her knife  _burned_ . It didn’t hurt, though. The sensation rushed up her arm like a flood, sweeping through her and making her head spin worse and  _better_ than the concussion could ever manage. The ground fell out from under her knees, but it didn’t matter, because she wasn’t falling, she was  _flying_ , and it was the most incredible sensation she’d ever felt.

She tumbled back into herself, and gasped for breath, chest heaving, the entire tunnel and the battle still being waged against the other demon bright and clear to her senses. She wobbled her way to her feet, knowing it was a bad idea but not  _caring_ , because what was one measly concussion compared to the unbelievable rush of magic still pulsing through her.

There was electricity under her skin, a tsunami trapped in her chest, a fire burning in every muscle. She took a step, then another, and then she flung herself into the fight, feeling wild and untameable and invincible. She ducked in past Leo and Ciril, set her feet, and swung her entire weight behind a round-house kick to the other brute demon’s face.

She  _felt_ his neck snap with the force of her kick, felt the bones give way with a strange intensity before he went flying into the cave wall, head first, and crumpled to the floor even as he began to dissolve into ash. Stepping back again, still with that feeling of too much magic thrumming away beneath her skin, Phoebe looked around for someone else to  _fight_ , found only allies – dubious or not – and forced herself to breathe. Allies who were all staring at her in shock.

“What?” She asked defensively.

“Phoebe…” Leo began, wide-eyed and uncertain. “You just vanquished an upper level demon with  _one kick_ .” He pointed out, as if she might have missed that.

Which, well, she kind of had. Not the act itself, of course, that was crystal clear in her memory, but the implications of it. Dread began to coil in her gut, and she looked down at her hand that was still holding the knife, and the blood smeared over her thumb. “Uh… could someone go and vanquish the other one?” She asked. “I think I might have accidentally… stolen his magic?”

Leo’s jaw dropped. Phoebe waited for him to pull himself together and go do as she asked, but he didn’t, just stood there and stared at her in stunned disbelief. It was Ciril who edged in close, tentatively took the sword from his slack grip, and marched off up the tunnel. Leo blinked, stared at Phoebe a moment longer, mouthing as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words, and then shook his head and turned to watch Ciril.

The brute demon didn’t even look up when Ciril stopped beside him. He remained where he was kneeling, head bowed, tremors running through him intermittently. Ciril put a hand on his shoulder, said something quietly, and then took his head off with one clean swing of the sword. As the demon began to dissolve, Phoebe  _felt_ the magic draining out of her. It wasn’t hers, she’d stolen it, and now with its true host gone, it too was draining away from the world. She sagged, her concussion returning with a vengeance. Her hand felt cold and achy, right down to the bone, and the joint of her thumb protested any movement at all with a fierce, hollowed-out ache.

“Phoebe, that was…” Leo began, then he stopped, reconsidered, and instead just shook his head and asked; “Please tell me you’re never going to do that again?”

Phoebe couldn’t answer. She didn’t want to, not really. Something deep inside her was cringing at the horror of what she’d just done. The utter, terrible  _violation_ she’d just enacted upon another living being, demon or not. She’d reached beyond his flesh and blood and torn out something so fundamental to his existence that it might as well have been his  _soul_ . But she thought of the Source, of what she could  _do_ with just a drop of his blood, and she couldn’t in all honesty say she  _wouldn’t_ .

“I don’t want to.” She managed, and finally met Leo’s eyes. “Can… can it be enough that I really don’t want to?”

Leo opened his mouth, failed to find words, and closed it again. He looked over as Ciril turned up at his shoulder, and took his sword back with a sombre nod of gratitude. When he returned his attention to Phoebe, his gaze was hollow. “I guess it’ll have to be.” He agreed without agreeing.

Putting that behind her for now, Phoebe led the way up to the doors. They were made of metal, but when Phoebe put her hand on one and pushed, it swung open easily. She stepped inside carefully, trying not to let the pounding of her head and the ache in her hand distract her from what she was doing. She didn’t know if this wasn’t a trap, after all, or maybe there’d be demons inside anyway. Either way, she needed to stay on alert until she was  _sure_ they were out of danger.

The inside of the cavern was lit with a strange, shifting grey light that gave Phoebe the very strong sense of being under water. Illuminated by that light were a collection of shelves and pedestals set up like a museum, displaying battered suits of armour, strange bits of jewellery, blood stained bandages, the odd book and scroll, and a great many ugly statues. “Okay, lets go shopping.” Phoebe announced, and led the way inside.

She made sure to run her hands over everything, even if she was pretty sure that it had nothing to do with the Black Death. She got several premonitions, all of horrific scenes of death and destruction. There was a particularly horrible one she got off a warped metal pole that only afterwards she realised was an old-fashioned IV stand that had been half melted. She decided to take a pair of swords from a collection she found hanging against one of the cavern walls.

As she was pulling them down, she got another vision, this time, of a battlefield, all mud and blood and screams echoing over the clash of metal. It was just a flash, but Phoebe was hit with the weight of death and pain being spread across the earth, and she stumbled and dropped the swords. She got a hold of herself, and picked them up, only to get hit by another vision, this time of men in chain mail standing around in a tent, pointing at things on a map and arguing.

Phoebe dropped the swords again, and leaned against the wall before she fell over. Distantly, she wondered if her concussion was messing with her powers. To keep getting visions like that, brief ones, just little flashes, from the same object was strange, and they kept hitting her with all the weight of emotion the people she was observing were feeling, first pain and death of a battlefield, and then the frustration of organising an army. She glared down at the swords. “One more time.” She decided, and reached down to pick them up.

This time the vision was of an ornate room, with a man who was clearly a Pope talking to a middle-eastern man who smiled, sly and pleased, and nodded, bowing his head to the Pope. The Pope smiled at him, and waved a hand as if dismissing something, and the man straightened and turned to leave. As he walked out of the door and stepped out of sight, Phoebe watched him become engulfed in flames as he walked, swallowed whole until he disappeared into them, and they died out, leaving no sign at all that he’d been there in the first place.

“Phoebe?!”

Phoebe came back to herself with an unpleasant lurch, still feeling that sense of vicious triumph humming away in her chest. She shook her head, then remembered why that was a bad idea as the world looped and spun and her stomach lurched. Hands caught hold of her, steadying her. “Leo?” She checked, because she wanted to keep her eyes shut for the time being.

“Are you alright? I heard a crash.” Leo asked.

“I… I think I just saw a demon convince the Pope to sanction the crusades.” Phoebe explained in a horribly small voice.

“The Crusades?” Leo checked. “Really?”

Phoebe nodded. “I think so? I’m not exactly a history expert, but if all my visions were related, then that’s the only thing that makes sense. And they… they  _felt_ related?” She attempted to explain, but she wasn’t sure she could. It was just a gut feeling, just the way the visions had hit her, one after the other in short little bursts, all from the same source, all nudging her closer to a single understanding.

“Then they probably were.” Leo confirmed for her, and Phoebe managed a wan smile in gratitude. “But the Crusades? I always figured that was just…”

“Human evil?” Phoebe finished for him, dry as dust.

“Well, yes.” Leo agreed, equally dry. They let that revelation settle between them. Phoebe didn’t want to move or speak yet because she still felt dizzy and sick, and it was just nice to stand there with Leo half hugging her, half supporting her. She didn’t know why Leo wasn’t breaking the moment, not even a hint, because she had kept her eyes shut, so she couldn’t even read his expression. After several minutes, however, he did speak again; “If your visions were that… persistent, do you think it might be because it had something to do with what you were looking for?” 

Phoebe considered that, tipping her head to rest it against Leo’s shoulder. He shifted a little, but it was so that he could stand closer, and let her rest more fully against him. One of his hands left her arm to probe at the bruise on her skull gently. Phoebe made a tiny protesting noise, and Leo sighed, relenting. “I don’t know. Maybe? I guess if this Zankou started the Crusades, it’s easier to believe he started the Black Death.” She paused. “They’ve got a similar death toll, right?”

Leo snorted. “Phoebe, no one knows any exact figures for either, but the Black Death killed about  _fifty times more_ people than the Crusades. It’s the scope of one million versus fifty million, but those are some of the lower estimates.”

“Oh.” Phoebe had not known that, but thinking about it made her feel kind of small. For a moment, she wondered whether she was making the right choice, trying to find this demon and help him kill the Source. But it was only a moment, and no matter what she’d said after they’d faced the Four Horsemen, avenging fifty million strangers was a long way down on her list of priorities, compared to avenging her sisters. Yes, she’d throw in with Zankou if it meant she could finally kill the Source.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, again, about missing last weeks update. Some interpersonal problems made the idea of interacting with people in general mildly terrifying, but things are hopefully settling down again, so, fingers crossed for next week! ^^"

It was days before Phoebe learned anything new, and those days dragged out into an unbearable crawl. She desperately wanted to talk to Cole, but he barely ever sat still anymore, always off on one scouting trip or another. The incident with the blood magic was weighing on her, and even though it seemed slightly ridiculous to be going to a demon for help with a moral dilemma, Cole was the only person she knew who’d struggled with that sort of thing, and the one person she trusted most in the world.

That he wasn’t around only made Phoebe think of her sisters, and wish that _they_ were there. Because if she couldn’t talk to Cole, she really wanted to talk to Piper. It was all too easy to imagine what Prue would say, the thought of that lecture made Phoebe smile for almost a full minute before the tears came. But Piper was harder, not because Phoebe didn’t know her as well, but because she’d always been so good at getting to the heart of an issue, and Phoebe just couldn’t see what that was without her to point it out for her.

She thought about trying to talk to Leo, but he was her whitelighter, so she knew what he’d say, too. It was dark magic, she should never ever do it again, and that was that. That _was_ what he’d said, more or less. But Phoebe couldn’t reconcile knowing it was wrong and the fact that she would willingly do it again if she ever got her hands on a single drop of the Source’s blood. She doubted she ever would, so it was a moot issue, but she couldn’t shake it.

Did it make her evil? Was this what evil felt like when you slid sideways into it on your own, instead of being dragged down by a spell or enchantment or possession? This willingness to cross lines that ought to be concrete just to get what she wanted? That… that had to be evil, didn’t it? And even if it wasn’t, then surely the part of her that _didn’t care_ whether it was evil or not, and would do it anyway, surely _that_ couldn’t exactly be called _good_ , could it?

And the thing that really bothered her was that she _didn’t care_. She was the last of the Charmed Ones, she was supposed to be a symbol of good magic, even without her sisters. Instead, when she actually examined her own feelings, she just couldn’t bring herself to care what it meant for her own nature, as long as the Source died screaming. She cared that she didn’t care, and all the introspection that only led her in dizzying circles was giving her a headache.

She distracted herself with a couple more raids on smaller collections of relics, hoarded by the more successful lower level demons, but they didn’t find anything that could lead them closer to Zankou. In desperation, Phoebe resorted to checking the cave in the catacombs, and that was where she finally found another clue.

Astaroth had left a response on a neat scroll of vellum, tied with a black ribbon. The moment she spotted it, Phoebe pounced on it and scrabbled to open it, desperate for _any_ information, something new to build ideas on, even if it was just ‘no you’re on a wild goose chase’. Leo came up to stand behind her and read over her shoulder, but Phoebe barely paid him any mind at all.

‘ _Zankou? Fire and brimstone, it’s been such a long time since I thought about him. If you’re looking for allies, you couldn’t do better, that’s for sure. His methods are unconventional, certainly, but highly successful. Unfortunately, I can’t tell you where he is. The Source has made quite sure that none of us could locate his prison, I’m sure you can understand why. Which also means I cannot be seen to be asking any questions, so you will have to discover his whereabouts for yourself._

_As for what I know about him, well, as I said, he’s unconventional, but as far as spreading evil goes, I’ve never met anyone so prolific. Your Holy Crusades, those were his work, and several other conflicts in that part of the world. I know he helped set up several different slave trades in his time, too, I hope that won’t bother you too much. There were also rumours that he caused the Black Death, but when I asked him about it, he would neither confirm nor deny._

_Have I put you off seeking him out yet? I do hope not, because I rather miss him. He was always so much fun. I wish you every luck in your search, and would suggest you start with the shape-shifters. They’ve never been in favour, and they know more about the sub-structure of the Underworld, and the old and lost places hidden away in the shadows than most._

_PS If you’re looking for another Council member to raid, might I suggest you try Balan?_ ’

Phoebe read the letter twice, and by the time she finished the second read through, she was smiling irrepressibly. “Well, at least we know we’re not chasing a fairy tale anymore.” She said, idly flicking at the edge of the letter as she turned this new information over in her mind.

“And we have somewhere to start.” Leo added. “Shape-shifters.”

All at once, Phoebe’s confused tangle of emotions over Cole’s recent evasions crested into a stubborn frustration that filled her to the brim. “Yes. Which means I’m going to corner Cole whether he likes it or not.” She declared. “Let’s go back.” She added, and Leo gripped her shoulder to orb her back to their headquarters.

Predictably, Cole wasn’t there. Xar was, and he looked up from mixing something at his own altar as they orbed in. He must have seen something on Phoebe’s face, because he straightened up, looking intent, interested, and maybe a little wary. “News?” He asked.

“Zankou isn’t a myth, Astaroth speaks highly of him, and the shape-shifters might know where his prison is.” Phoebe informed him succinctly. “Where’s Cole?”

It took Xar a moment to answer, distracted as he was by absorbing the information Phoebe had just hurled at him. “Searching out rumours.” He explained distractedly, waving an absent hand.

“Do you know where?” Phoebe asked.

Xar gave her a deeply unimpressed look. “I’m not his keeper.”

Phoebe glared right back. “Do you know when he might be back?” She gritted out.

Xar rolled his eyes. “No doubt after you’ve fallen asleep. Lover’s spat?” He asked, deliberately needling her.

“Apparently.” Phoebe shot back, and all her frustration peaked, and she threw caution to the wind. “Fine. Fine, if he’s going to keep playing this stupid game, then he’d better be prepared for me to fight back.” She muttered to herself, considering their headquarters, and moving into one of the more open spaces. “ _Magic forces black and white, reaching out through space and light, be he far or be he near, bring me the demon Belthazor here._ ”

The whirling tornado of smoke burst to life in front of Phoebe, and a little sliver of relief made itself known in her heart when she _didn’t_ feel the pull that meant Cole was fighting the summons. The tornado spun itself out, revealing Cole standing in its heart, looking bewildered and outraged. “Phoebe? What the hell are you doing? I was in the middle of enemy territory, and now they probably know I was spying on them!” He exclaimed.

“Well, it seemed like it was the only way I was going to get to see your face, never mind talk to you, so I don’t know what you expected me to do.” Phoebe replied, with an entirely false air of indifference.

Cole eyes flicked away from hers, all his outrage turning to evasion in a heartbeat. “I’ve been busy, Phoebe.” He retorted, quiet, but with no less venom. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re trying to wage war against the most powerful evil the Underworld has ever seen. There’s a lot to do.”

“Yes, and it would probably be easier to plan and work together if you weren’t _avoiding me_!” Phoebe shouted.

“I’m not avoiding you.” Cole denied, and he couldn’t even managing to make the lie sound convincing. The fact that he’d even tried made Phoebe want to hurt him. “Like I said, I’ve been busy. So have you.” He pointed out.

“Not _that_ busy!” Phoebe clenched her hands into fists and wished, for a moment, she still had the brute demon’s power because, as she was, throwing a punch at Cole probably wouldn’t even make him flinch. “Not too busy to make time for _you_! I would have dropped my stupid little raids if you had wanted to just sit and talk for a while, or tell me what in hell you’ve been brooding over and trying to hide from me, I would have listened! But when _I_ needed to talk to you? When I’m struggling, and I need you, your support and advice?! Oh, no, _you’re too busy_!”

Cole stared at her, mouth slightly agape. “I- I didn’t realise.” He said, which was almost an apology, but it only served to infuriate Phoebe further.

“No, of course you didn’t! You were too focused on running away from me to notice that, maybe, I’d like to _talk to my boyfriend_!” Phoebe snarled. Cole flinched, and when he met Phoebe’s gaze again, his eyes were blazing.

“I wasn’t _running_ , Phoebe.” Cole informed her, stepping close to loom over her. Phoebe refused to be intimidated, jutted her chin up and out to match his glare, despite the difference in their height. “Did it _ever_ occur to you that I might have a _good reason_ for wanting to keep my distance for a while? Do you think I _like_ not spending time with you?”

“How should _I_ know?” Phoebe shot back. “You _won’t tell me anything_!”

“I was _trying_ to keep you _safe_!” Cole yelled.

“Safe from _what_?!”

“From _me_!”

Phoebe stopped. She drew back to stare at Cole, anger successfully derailed by confusion and wariness. “Okay. You’re going to need to explain that.” She decided, searching his face, his eyes, for any hint of what he was talking about. “Why would you be a danger to me?”

Cole stared right back, clearly also searching for something in her expression, but, just like her, not finding it. He scoffed, and turned away, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Of course you didn’t notice.” He muttered, bitter and scathing. “Of course you wouldn’t. Why would you even _care_? He’s just another demon to you, isn’t he?”

Phoebe opened her mouth, found that she didn’t even know how she could possibly express the confusion _that_ little rant had caused, and just settled for a dumbfounded “What?”

“I’m _losing control_ , Phoebe.” Cole burst out, whirling around to face her again, and for the first time, Phoebe noticed the wild, almost panicked fear behind the anger in his eyes. Her heart leapt, and strained in her chest like it was trying to squeeze out between her ribs to go him. “I keep- Belthazor keeps taking over, and _I can’t stop it_ . Ever since the Source- _did_ something at the Solstice, it’s been… _so hard_ to keep him under, to stay _human_. And around you? I can’t-” He faltered, and the last of his anger drained away, leaving only the fear. “I can’t risk that.”

“Oh, Cole…” Phoebe sighed, stepping closer and reaching up to cup his face in her hands. “You won’t hurt me.” She assured him, but even as she said the words, she knew they weren’t going to help. Their relationship had been too fraught, too conflicted, to say he never had and never would, and she had run when when she should have held on too often to assure Cole he wouldn’t lose her even if he did get tricked into hurting her again. But she had to try. “I know you, Cole.” She began. “I know you love me. And I know, if you ever do hurt me, it’s not because _you_ wanted to.”

Cole laughed, sickly and not amused at all, and closed his eyes to lean into her touch. His hands came up to cup her elbows, gripped fiercely for a moment, and then relaxed. “He does want to.” Cole whispered, eyes still scrunched tight shut. Phoebe opened her mouth to reassure him, but Cole carried on before she could. “ _I_ want to. Sometimes. I can’t- pretend he’s not a part of me. I might be half human, but I’m half demon too, Phoebe, and-…”

Phoebe’s heart was in her throat, pounding far too hard, but she didn’t think she was afraid. “I know.” She breathed, feeling strangely untethered, and disconnected from everything, hovering trapped somewhere between her body and her soul, like she was nothing more than a puppet for her own subconscious. “Why do you think I fell in love with you?”

Cole’s eyes flew wide to stare at her, completely wrong-footed. Phoebe pressed her lips together to keep a completely inappropriate laugh trapped behind her teeth. She felt just as off-balance as Cole looked, just as blind-sided by her own revelation, and it was more than a little scary, to look at her own soul and see for the first time something that had been there all along. “What?” Cole asked.

That was too much, and Phoebe snickered before she could help herself. She retracted one of her hands to clap it over her mouth. “I’m sorry.” She gasped. “I’m sorry, it’s just- I never realised-” She closed her eyes and leaned in, dropping her hands to his sides, to rest her head against Cole’s chest while she tried to pull herself together. “Cole?” She breathed softly, into the warm dark she’d hidden herself in, pressed up against him like this.

“Mm?” Cole hummed, to assure her he was listening. The sound vibrated through his ribs, and Phoebe smiled helplessly.

“Sometimes I want to hurt you, too.” She confessed in a whisper. She didn’t get a response to that, and she swallowed her nerves. “Sometimes, I want to _destroy_ you, just to prove that I could.” Cole’s hands tightened on her arms again, and then slid around to hold her more securely against him, and Phoebe didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. Instead, she went for a flippant quip. “I think I’m just better at repression than you are.”

“Probably.” Cole agreed, just as flippant. It did help Phoebe feel less wild inside.

“Don’t let me.” Phoebe instructed. Cole made a confused noise, so Phoebe drew back to look up at him, eyes hard and jaw set. “Don’t let me destroy you, and I won’t let you hurt me.”

Cole blinked, and then smiled, helpless and tired, but sincere. “I’ll do my best.”

Well, that wasn’t the definitive answer Phoebe had been looking for, but it would do. She nodded, and wiped at her eyes. “You know…” She began, fighting for composure. “That wasn’t actually what I wanted to talk to you about when I summoned you.”

“I didn’t think so, somehow.” Cole agreed dryly. “What _did_ you want that was so urgent?”

“Astaroth had some information about Zankou.” Phoebe informed him, massively glad to get away from the dangerous territory of their darker sides, and get back to talking business. “He _is_ real, and probably is as dangerous as he sounds, and she thinks that our best bet for finding his prison is the shape-shifters? I wanted your input, before I did something reckless and possibly life-threatening.”

Cole let out a soft breath, like he was still struggling to compose himself, then his eyes narrowed as he forced himself to focus on the new topic. “Shape-shifters are low level, not well liked or trusted, but they _do_ make excellent spies.” He mused aloud. “I can see why Astaroth might say that, but I’m not sure I trust her intentions.”

“What do you mean?” Phoebe asked.

“Astaroth has no more reason to want Zankou in charge than she has to want the Source in charge. Either she’s hoping they’ll kill each other, or that you’ll vanquish them both, or she’s hoping Zankou will kill _you_.” He paused, then smiled wryly. “Or she’s just stirring shit up because she’s bored and has nothing better to do. That’s entirely possible.”

Phoebe snorted. “I barely know her, and that sounds so very like her.”

“So, we’ll investigate the shape-shifters.” Cole confirmed. “But I we’ll have to be careful how we do it. They’re mistrusted by most of the Underworld, so they mistrust most of the Underworld. If we tip our hand too soon, they’ll close ranks and vanish, and we’ll lose our lead.”

“What do you suggest we do, then?” Phoebe asked, because she wasn’t going to let Cole shimmer off to do whatever it was by himself. She wasn’t going to give him an opportunity to start avoiding her again, so they’d just have to do this one together.

Cole must have read some of that on her face, because he looked more than a little exasperated as he answered. “First thing I’d want to try is spreading a few whispers among the clans I know have better relations with the shape-shifters about Zankou, just revive the stories, make them popular again, and then see if any whispers come _back_ from the shape-shifters. If we’re lucky, there’ll be something that implies they do know more than the average demon.”

“Okay, how do we do that?” Phoebe asked him.

“We don’t. We send Ciril and Gobmal to do it. They blend in where we can’t, after all.”

Phoebe nodded her acceptance of that. “We can do that.” Ciril interjected, making Phoebe jump. She looked around, and flushed red when she realised that just about _everyone_ had been watching her little heart-to-heart with Cole. Leo, at least, had been politely pretending not to listen, busying himself at his little medical workstation, but the three low level demons had been lurking, and Xar hadn’t even tried to be innocuous, and was leaning against one of the pillars of stone with his arms folded and a condescending smirk on his face.

Cole acted like it didn’t bother him, but Phoebe could see the stiff set of his shoulders as he gave Ciril and Gobmal a list of places and clans to go spreading the legend of Zankou to. Phoebe knew it would take a while for anything to echo back to them, so she turned her attention instead to Astaroth’s request. And it had been a request, even if it hadn’t been phrased that way.

A raid on an Infernal Council member’s private storage of relics and mementoes. “Do you know who Balan is?” She asked Cole after Ciril and Gobmal had left.

Cole’s eyebrows flew up as he looked at her. “He’s on the Infernal Council, along with Astaroth and four others.” He explained, more curious than wary at the moment. “He’s specialises in weaponry and artillery. Armour, too, sometimes. He dabbles in alchemy, and he helped inspire humans to invent the canon, and the nuclear bomb.”

Phoebe imagined the Source’s reaction to having his _main armoury_ raided by a witch, a rogue demon, and a whitelighter, and then she couldn’t help but picture Astaroth in the background, bouncing up and down and clapping with glee, like a child at Christmas, as the Source ripped into this Balan for his failure. She couldn’t help but snort at the mental image. “So _that’s_ why Astaroth wants us to raid him, next.” Phoebe remarked, giving Cole a look to invite him in on the joke.

Happily, Cole followed her train of thought, and grinned in a way that made his teeth seem far sharper than normal human teeth should be. “I guess you want me to come, even if battle does provoke Belthazor more than anything else?” He asked, although he had to know what the answer would be.

“Absolutely.” Phoebe confirmed for him, and she couldn’t quite keep the conflict off her face. “Trust me, I think setting Belthazor loose on them would be better than setting _me_ loose on them.” She admitted, but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything else, even in the face of Cole’s bewildered disbelief. Instead of answering that look, she cleared her throat, and turned to include Xar in her next question; “Does anyone know where Balan’s armoury is?”

“Of course.” Cole and Xar said in unison.

“Well protected?”

“Very.” Xar drawled.

Phoebe smiled grimly, and they settled in to plan their assault. Cole explained that the guards were a specific clan of demons who had something of a hive mind, so the whole lot of them would know the moment any of them were injured or vanquished, and they had guards on the two doors, and a roving patrol wandering the tunnels around it. There was an enchantment to protect against teleportation and even scrying, but nothing that would go off if they just walked in, because any number of demons walked in and out all the time.

“So, not only do we have to get past the guards without vanquishing them, we have to avoid notice from any other demon who happens to be there as well?” Phoebe asked, and Cole nodded, looking more amused than worried about the odds. Phoebe had to admit she was feeling similarly exhilarated by the prospect. “I actually think I have an idea for that. When we first raided Leraichey’s hoard, I tried to put the guards to sleep. It didn’t work, but I think that was just a matter of not enough power. Give me some incense and a totem to burn, and I should be able to knock the guards out. The others won’t be able to feel that, will they?”

“Probably not, or if they do, they probably won’t notice what they’re feeling. It might even have a domino effect, if they feel the other’s tiredness.” Cole mused. “I like this plan.”

“Let’s get to it, then.” Phoebe declared, and headed to her own altar to collect the right incense and to write out the spell on a scrap of vellum so she could burn it for the added power boost. Then she went to grab a handful of the giant hemp sacks they’d collected to help haul their loot. “You’re coming too, Tarath. We’re not leaving you here alone.” Phoebe informed him.

“I figured not.” Tarath agreed, looking resigned.

Phoebe patted him on the shoulder, but didn’t apologise or try to make him feel better. Their mistrust might fade with time, or it might not, but making any promises of the kind would only encourage an act, and if it was an act, Phoebe wanted to make him feel like it was all for nothing. If he thought they’d never trust him more than they already did, he might get desperate, and make a mistake. If his help was genuine, it wouldn’t hurt in the long run to be cautious.

Cole took them all to a stretch of tunnel not too far from where they wanted to be. Of course, it was still a fair distance, because where they wanted to be was a bustling hub of demonic activity, and getting too close would dump them in the middle of a bunch of people with Kill On Sight orders for them. So they arrived in a small, cramped tunnel with an uneven floor, and they all put their hoods up, even though there was no one around yet. Cole led them along several winding, branching tunnels before they stepped out into a large cavern with the occasional demon appearing and disappearing, or wandering in and out through wide tunnels.

“This is like an airport for demons, isn’t it?” Phoebe asked while they lingered in the shadows of their little service tunnel. “They can reach here by shimmering or flaming or smoking or whatever, and from here they can get to a bunch of important places.”

“Exactly.” Cole pointed to the tunnel almost directly across from them. “See the symbols at the arch of the tunnels? That tells you what’s there.” Phoebe squinted at the symbol, since it was far enough away that she couldn’t make out the details. “Council Halls, Library, Dark Chapel, Source’s Audience Chamber, Grand Marketplace, Triad’s Halls, Armoury, Theatre-”

“Wait, theatre? Library I could accept, but the Underworld has a _theatre_?” Phoebe interrupted.

“Well, they have to have somewhere to put on the public executions.” Cole replied with a mocking twist to his mouth. Phoebe was fairly sure he was being serious, but that he also found the idea of a demonic theatre just as funny as she did.

“So it’s like the Roman colosseum? Gladiator fights and executions and re-enactments of old battles?” Phoebe wondered.

“Huh, maybe we should tell our Council friend to suggest chariot races.” Cole mused.

“Can we get a move on?” Xar interrupted with a roll of his eyes.

Phoebe rolled her eyes right back. “Spoilsport.” She grumbled, but then glanced at Cole. “Is there a reason we’re skulking in the shadows that’s more than just waiting for a lull in the traffic?” She wondered, because even while they talked, Cole hadn’t stopped watching the cavern beyond.

Cole shook his head distractedly, but he didn’t move, so Phoebe didn’t either. She had no idea what he was waiting for, until there was a sudden explosion of movement, as a large party, maybe thirty strong, came spilling out of one of the tunnels and three different clusters of demons shimmered in within seconds of each other. “Now.” Cole said, and they slipped out of their half-hidden tunnel, and blended in seamlessly with the sudden crowd.

“I would never have thought that too many people would be better than too few.” Phoebe murmured to Cole.

“Blending in is better than hiding out.” Cole pointed out dryly, and then reached out to catch her hand and slip it into the crook of his elbow. Phoebe glanced at him in surprise. After the last few days – or what she guessed were days – of distance, she hadn’t expected him to invite closeness like that. Then again, their uncomfortably public heart-to-heart had been fairly intense, and maybe, just maybe, this was him surreptitiously asking for reassurance and comfort.

Whether it was or not, Phoebe wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity, so she pressed in close and all but clung to his arm. When she snuck another glance at him, she saw that he was smiling in the shadows of his hood, and then she had to look away again to hide her own smile.

Cole guided them through the right tunnel without incident, down through a few winding twists and turns and past a few branch tunnels. “That one leads to the alchemical laboratories. That goes to the blacksmiths.” Cole explained in a murmur as they went, and Phoebe did her best to commit it all to memory. Knowing the layout of this place could be useful later on.

They were almost alone in the tunnel, and when Cole informed Phoebe that they were getting close, Tarath showed excellent initiative by pretending to trip over his robes and falling flat on his face. The small group of demons behind them laughed uproariously, but didn’t hesitate to march right past them, mocking Tarath as they went, until they rounded a corner while he was still staggering his way upright, and were gone.

“Nicely done.” Phoebe complimented.

“Thanks.” Tarath said sheepishly. “Are we close enough for you to do your sleep spell, do you think?” He asked her.

Phoebe glanced at Cole, who shrugged. “The door is just around the next corner.” Sure enough, now that she was listening for it, Phoebe could just hear the gaggle of demons that had passed them offering the reason for their presence and their authorisation to the guards, and the muted thump of large doors opening and then closing.

“Then we’re close enough.” Phoebe decided, but she still guided them right up to the corner before adding; “Let’s hurry and set up before someone else comes along.” It didn’t take long to get the incense lit, and Phoebe had the others wave it around and waft it in the direction of the guards before she had Xar set her totem on fire with a tiny fire-bolt. She held it up as she recited the spell; “ _Guardians of the warrior’s keep, let these words send you off to sleep._ ”

The sound of two bodies hitting the floor was music to her ears. They darted around the corner to find two burly demons snoring away in front of the large doors framed by braziers set high on twisted metal poles. Phoebe had Xar and Tarath drag the guards out of the way of the tunnel and prop them up against the wall, which Xar complained about while Phoebe studiously ignored him. The doors themselves were barred, but it didn’t appear to take Cole much effort to lift the bar out of the way. Phoebe shoved the door open and stepped into the armoury.

Her first thought was that it was _huge_ , a massive cavern with a roof that disappeared into the gloom and walls that did the same. Her second thought was that it was so full of stuff that she was surprised demons didn’t get lost in here. Her third thought was that they hadn’t brought enough sacks to make even the smallest dent in this collection. “Cole?” She asked, still gaping at racks upon racks of athames and sword, barrels full of twisted staffs, tables covered in strange metallic and crystal wands, bundles of whips hanging on hooks. There were also stands with armour both metal and leather, rows of hooks bearing cloaks of all shapes and sizes and colours, and trays in racks full to the brim with glittering jewellery. Phoebe also thought she saw cabinets with potions inside somewhere in the depths.

“Impressed?” Cole asked dryly.

“Yeah.” Phoebe breathed. “Is there a section for particularly dangerous or specialised weapons? I think we should go with those, if we really want to get this Balan guy in trouble.”

“Everything is organised by power towards the center of the cavern-” Cole gestured into the depths of the armoury. “-then type of enchantment in sections-” He made chopping motions in the air like he was slicing a pizza. “-and then type of weapon however Balan sees fit.” For that, he just waved vaguely at the layout before them, with the clusters of similar weapons grouped haphazardly together.

“So, we wind our way inside, taking anything we see that’s interesting.” Phoebe decided.

“How about we stop wasting time and get on with it?” Xar suggested, snatching a sack out of Tarath’s arms and stalking off into the cavern. Phoebe sighed, took her own sack with a grateful smile, and gave the cavern another assessing look.

“May I take you shopping, my lady?” Cole asked, grinning.

“You may, sir.” Phoebe replied delightedly, linking her arm with his again, and letting him guide her in amongst the shelves. It was a warrior’s treasure trove, and Phoebe spent the first several minutes just picking up anything that caught her eye. She grabbed a set of greaves which, going by the symbols etched into the cubbyhole they’d been tucked into, produced a mild concussive force when they hit anything, which, as a kick-boxer, Phoebe thought sounded amazing. She also picked up a set of fingerless gloves with spiky plating on the knuckles that would shock anything the metal touched. And she took the entire collection of cloaks designed to blend in with the shadows.

Then they started getting into the weapons with serious destructive power, and Phoebe started just grabbing some of everything. Even if it wasn’t something she was sure she could use, she took it anyway, because they had several large sacks, and the point was to get Balan in trouble as much as it was to get useful weapons. The closer they got to the center, the more often it was that there was only one of that particular thing, so Phoebe often ended up clearing out entire shelves and tables and racks, just dumping everything into her own sack, or Cole’s, whichever one he presented to her to fill.

Then an alarm went up. The four of them hefted their sacks and ran for the door. They had to fight their way out of the doors, but Phoebe was wearing her new gloves and greaves, and an amulet that made the wearer fireproof, so she for once didn’t feel like she needed to resort to emergency rhyming to get out of a battle against upper level demons. She was breathless and laughing by the time they cleared the wards, and Cole grabbed her, leaving Tarath to Xar, to shimmer them across half the underworld before taking them back to their hidden lair, just so that anyone tracking them wouldn’t be able to find their headquarters. Phoebe took the opportunity presented by their solitude and the adrenaline still flooding her system to throw Cole down and have her way with him.

Afterwards, once they were dressed again, they sat for a while and just _talked_ about nothing in particular, spending time alone together in a way they hadn’t for _far_ too long. It didn’t stop Phoebe worrying about the state of her soul, or Cole from worrying about his demon half. It didn’t make any of their problems disappear, but it was the perfect ending to a surprisingly good day, and after the last few months, Phoebe would take whatever she could get.


	14. Chapter 14

The fall out from their little robbery was felt almost immediately, when Cole came back from a routine scouting trip singed and more than a little cut up. It turned out the Source had more than just lost his temper with Balan, he had accused him of treachery and vanquished him, which had prompted all the other remaining Infernal Council members – they were down to ten now, almost half of them were dead, and Phoebe thrilled at the thought – to redouble their efforts to prove their own loyalty.

Once she was done assuring herself that Cole would make a full recovery, given time, Phoebe laughed herself sick at the thought of the Source vanquishing a loyal follower while the actually treacherous one was sitting pretty, still egging Phoebe on. Cole shared her amusement, but it didn’t distract him for long from his worry over his demonic half. Phoebe tried to take his mind off it by suggesting he and Leo teach her sword-fighting, since they had an abundance of swords, now.

It didn’t work to take his mind off it, but he did agree, pointing out that he would feel much better if she could defend herself more thoroughly. He didn’t say ‘from me, if you need to’, but it was heavily implied. Phoebe couldn’t figure out how to argue, or even if she should, so she shut up and focused on her lessons. It was surprisingly intense, and surprisingly _slow_. She knew it was an art, that it took years to really master, but she hadn’t quite anticipated what that would mean for her learning curve. On the occasions that Cole sparred with her, with magically blunted swords because he refused to attack her with a blade otherwise, she wound up sporting bruises on her bruises, and rarely ever landed a hit herself.

They were in the middle of another spar, and Phoebe was flagging something awful, when Ciril appeared in the middle of the headquarters. Phoebe immediately dropped her sword arm, and Cole checked his lunge with an exasperated snarl, which Phoebe completely ignored in favour of rounding on Ciril expectantly.

The look on his face was hard to read. He looked pale and a bit wide-eyed, but that could have been horror or delight, or even just shock at hearing about their raid on the armoury. “What have you learned?” Cole asked him, brisk and to the point.

“And where’s Gobmal?” Xar interjected, looking annoyed about the fact that he might have to worry about one of his minions.

Ciril took a couple of breaths to steady himself. “We, uh… we got a location.” He said, and every nerve in Phoebe’s body stood to attention. She repressed the sudden impulse to _shake_ Ciril until the rest of the story fell out, but something of her feelings must have shown on her face, because Ciril hastened to explain. “Of Zankou’s prison. Well, we don’t _have_ it, but there’s a shape-shifter, he knows, and he’s willing to show us where it is. Gobmal’s waiting with him”

“How did he know you were looking for it?” Cole interjected.

Ciril flinched, and hesitated to answer. “Well, we heard he was bragging about knowing where Zankou’s prison was, but I thought-” Here, he cut off and glanced at Xar, as if for reassurance. Xar nodded for him to go on, so he squared his shoulders and did so. “I thought it would be better to come back with a solid lead, instead of rumours, so we drew him out and asked him about it. He blustered a bit, but when he realised who we were, hm, representing-” That was said with a hint of a sideways smirk, and a pointed glance at Phoebe, which had eyebrows flying up all over the place. “He admitted he could show us where it was, but that he wasn’t going there twice because, he said, it gave him the creeps.”

“Did he now?” Cole asked mildly.

Phoebe glanced at him. “Trap?”

“Maybe.” Cole shrugged. “Hard to tell.”

“Ciril, have him show you where it is. If it is a trap, make sure at least one of you gets out, don’t come directly here, go to my old caves. I’ll be waiting there for you to report back. If it isn’t a trap, then the two of you can show us where it is.”

“Yes, sir.” Ciril said quickly, and shimmered out again.

Phoebe frowned at the space where he’d disappeared, not entirely comfortable with sending him and Gobmal off into a potential trap like that. “Well, I’d better be off, too.” Xar announced.

“I’ll come with you.” Leo said quickly. Xar shot him a disgruntled look, but didn’t outright argue. Phoebe noticed Leo and Cole exchanging significant looks as Leo walked over and grabbed hold of Xar’s shoulder right before the demon left.

“What was that about?” Phoebe asked, turning to Cole.

“Just making sure he doesn’t double-cross us.” Cole explained with a shrug.

A small snort drew Phoebe’s attention to Tarath, which was unusual. He was very good at staying quiet and going unnoticed for long periods of time. When he caught her looking, he went a little pink with embarrassment. “Just nice to know it’s not just me.” He explained, shrugging one shoulder.

“We’re paranoid as a general rule, I promise.” Phoebe assured him. The edge of defensiveness in Tarath’s posture melted away, and he smiled in relief that she hadn’t taken offense. “We’ve been bitten a few times before, so… There’s only two people left in the world that I trust at all anymore.” Phoebe said, voice going brittle at the reminder of everything she’d lost.

Cole made a small noise, and Phoebe turned to stare at him, because that had sounded almost negative, like he disagreed with her. He grimaced a little at being caught. “Well, he might not be stuck down here like we are, but you still trust your father, don’t you?” Cole asked.

The reminder was a punch in the gut. Phoebe stared at him, stunned breathless by the reminder, stunned that she _needed_ the reminder to think of her father. Her father, who lost his wife twice over, who had been kept out of their lives by Grams, nearly pushed away again by Prue, and then finally, when he managed to reconnect with them for real, he had lost not just Prue and Piper, but Phoebe, too. And the son-in-law he’d just gained. Because she and Leo had been missing for months now. No one would know what had happened to them. Her father might have his suspicions, because he knew about who they were and what they did, but it wasn’t like he could take ‘demons’ to the police. And when demons were involved, there wasn’t always a body left, so he probably thought…

“He thinks I’m dead.” Phoebe whispered, voice breaking on the last word.

“Phoebe, I’m sorry.” Cole said quickly. “I didn’t mean-”

“No, I should’ve- I should’ve thought of this before, but- Oh, god, he thinks-” Phoebe could feel a strange, helpless sort of desperation welling up inside her, shortening her breath and setting a tremor in her fingers. “He must think I’m dead by now. It’s- it’s been _months_.”

Cole enveloped her in a tight hug. “There’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I know.” Phoebe replied, clutching at him. “That’s the worst part. I’ve spent the last couple of months thinking it’s not… it’s not really important how fast I get back, because my life’s been up-ended anyway, but- I didn’t even think about Dad, but I can’t let him know I’m okay, so now I just have to… live with knowing that he thinks he’s lost _all of us_.”

“Perhaps we can get a message to him somehow.” Cole suggested, although he didn’t sound very convinced. “Your spirit board, maybe. Or perhaps astral projection can get through.”

“But I can’t-”

“You made a potion to mimic Piper’s powers, I’m sure you can make a spell to mimic Prue’s.” Cole interjected, very gently, but with an undertone of certainty that defied any argument. Phoebe’s breath shook as she nodded, but she did it anyway. “No spell is perfect.” Cole reminded her. “There’s _always_ a crack somewhere, we just have to find it, and exploit it.”

“Okay.” Phoebe agreed. “But… I don’t want to, but I think it needs to wait until after all this drama over Zankou is done. If we get embroiled in this now, we might get distracted and miss the opportunity.” Cole nodded his acceptance, but didn’t let go of her, which Phoebe not-so-secretly appreciated. They half-heartedly tossed ideas back and forth for how they might be able to get at least a message past the Source’s seal on the Underworld just to pass the time.

Phoebe felt a little less on-edge when Leo reappeared in their headquarters. Phoebe didn’t need more than the expression on his face to know that their shape-shifter had come through. She and Cole reached out as one, and then waited impatiently for Tarath to scramble up and join them. Then Leo orbed them to a grey stone tunnel with a sandy floor that sloped down and curled out of sight. “There’s teleportation warding on it?” Cole checked.

Leo nodded. “Xar spent about ten whole minutes making sure it was safe to just step across the threshold.” He explained, starting forward. He and Cole both had to hunch to keep from knocking their heads on the ceiling, and Phoebe could feel her hair brushing rocks occasionally, too. They followed the tunnel down and around and down, until it finally opened out into something a little less claustrophobic, and turned into a set of loosely spiralling stairs.

They trooped down, Leo in the lead with Phoebe right behind him and Cole at her back. There was a wall to their left, and a gaping pit to their left, the express route down to the prison, so Phoebe kept close enough to the wall that her shoulder brushed it regularly. They looped around on themselves twice before the stairs finally straightened out and led to a square archway that opened onto a surprisingly small cave. In the center was a decapitated stalagmite, and above it hovered an orb of blueish light containing a swirling, writhing storm of particles. Phoebe hovered at the bottom of the stairs for a moment, watching the strange prison and what she assumed was Zankou.

Leo had seen it before, and didn’t stop to gawk. Instead, he crossed the room to join Xar where he was kneeling at the base of the stalagmite, inspecting something and muttering irritably to himself. Cole touched Phoebe’s shoulder, and she glanced at him. “I guess we found him.” Phoebe murmured.

“Now we just have to get him out.” Cole agreed, and tipped his head towards the archway. “Come on.” He encouraged, holding out a hand to her. Phoebe took it, and let his strong grip ground her and bolster her determination. She looked up to let him see her resolve, and that was when everything went wrong.

An explosion bloomed over Cole’s shoulder, and he jerked forwards, stumbling against her. Phoebe’s arms came up to try and hold his weight, even though she wasn’t quite that strong, but it was all on automatic, because her attention was entirely focused on the Source, standing in the middle of the cavern ahead, one arm still outstretched. “Cole?!” Phoebe gasped out desperately, as Cole sagged in her arms, a dead weight.

Leo and Xar, and Ciril and Gobmal, and the shape-shifter whose name Phoebe didn’t know, were all lurching to their feet too. Xar hurled fire-bolts in a steady stream, which the Source deflected with a casual wave of his hand. Leo tried to charge in, sword leading, but was forced back by a swarm of explosion-balls that rocked the cavern when they detonated against floor and walls and took out the shape-shifter, who was a little too slow diving for cover. Cole was still unmoving against her, and Phoebe’s knees were starting to buckle, but her hope refused to die, because at least he was still _there_ , and not bursting into flames or crumbling to dust. She had no idea if he would, if he died, no idea which side took precedence, but she _had_ to hope he wasn’t- He _couldn’t be_ -

She felt him move. Just a twitch, the merest breath of a snarl near her ear, and she broke. Her knees gave out, and she staggered and sagged off their stairs to kneel on the floor with a sob. The motion was made awkward by the way Cole suddenly jolted in her arms, like he was trying to lunge _through_ her, or just hurl himself right over her shoulder. Something jarred her, and when she hit the ground, she felt another body fall against her back, and then a sharp stabbing pain caught her in the side.

“What-?” Phoebe breathed, too overwhelmed by confusion to manage anything more coherent.

“ _Traitor_.” Cole growled, voice gravelled and rough, and the body in Phoebe’s arms expanded in fits and starts, until she was holding Belthazor’s much more considerable bulk. She wanted to look over her shoulder, but she didn’t dare take her eyes off the fight raging in the cavern ahead. Leo had put himself between her and the Source, while Xar and his minions were ranged on the other side of Zankou’s prison, harrying the Source from behind.

Logic told her who it was that was slumped awkwardly against her back, anyway. “Tarath?” She asked, not sure if she was asking Cole or Tarath himself for a confirmation. She got it from both, in the form of a vicious growl from Belthazor and a breathless, wavering apology from Tarath. She shifted, sending pain radiating through her ribs, and freed one arm to reach down and feel out where the pain was coming from. Her fingers caught on a blade, and she hissed in pain as she accidentally sliced her fingertips open. It was half caught in her side, probably from when Tarath had fallen against her, because if he’d been aiming, he probably would have caught her square between the shoulder blades.

Baring her teeth in a mixture of anger and pain, Phoebe took hold of the blade and yanked it out of her side and Tarath’s lax grip. She immediately dropped it and returned her hand to her side to press down on the gash and hopefully stem the bleeding. “Cole? Can you stand?” She asked breathlessly.

After a long moment, Belthazor shifted his weight to his own knees so that he wasn’t leaning on Phoebe any more. It wasn’t exactly an answer, but it would do. She squirmed out from between the two demons, and staggered back to lean against the cave wall, staring. Cole’s fingers were buried in Tarath’s stomach up to the second knuckle, and his palm was awash with black blood. With Phoebe out of the line of fire, Belthazor reached up with his other hand, which made Tarath flinch, and then whine.

“No.” Phoebe said, before she’d even realised she was going to speak. Belthazor’s head whipped around, pointed teeth bared in a furious snarl. “No.” Phoebe said again, glaring right back. “He’s _mine_.” She announced, and only once she said it did she understand how much it mattered to her, that _she_ be the one to vanquish Tarath. “He was my mistake, and _I’m_ going to fix it.”

Belthazor did not look happy, but he wrenched his hand out of Tarath’s guts and sat back on his heels, watching her like a hawk. Tarath wheezed at the motion, and with the last of his support gone, crumpled over sideways to lie half-on the steps, curled around the injury to his stomach. Phoebe kept one hand on her wound as she pushed off the wall, stooped to pick up the knife Tarath had just tried to kill her with, and approached his slumped form. “I would ask why, but I already know.” She announced. “You were scared, and he was going to hurt you if you didn’t. Right?”

Tarath whimpered and nodded. Pity welled up in Phoebe, but right alongside it came disgust. She nudged him with her boot until he ended up sprawled on his back. “You should have picked something to stand for. Maybe then you wouldn’t have died in a fight that really had nothing to do with you.” She told him, and Tarath’s expression crumpled. Phoebe ignored it, and dropped to one knee to swipe the knife across his throat in one swift motion.

Tarath burst into flames, so close to Phoebe that she felt the wash of heat before they vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving only a faint trace of residue behind. Phoebe stared at it for a moment, then shook her head to herself, and set about removing her jacket and turning it into makeshift bandages. “How’s your back?” She asked of Cole – or Belthazor – as she worked.

“I’ll be fine.” Belthazor growled.

“Fine enough to fight the Source?” Phoebe challenged without much feeling. She didn’t have space in her heart for anything more than the fury bubbling up out of her disgust. Belthazor snarled at her, more out of pride than anger, and lurched to his feet. He staggered a little, but remained upright, so Phoebe followed his lead. “Right.” Phoebe said, more to herself than Cole, and flexed her hands in their new gloves, curling them into fists. Then she threw herself forwards into the melee.

The Source, of course, immediately fixated on her, which was a mistake, because then Leo and Xar came at him from opposite sides, one with fire and the other with metal. But the Source was ready for that, and a wall of flames erupted between him and them, driving them back. Belthazor charged past her shoulder like a bull, crashing into the flames which were clearly more than just flames, because they slowed him almost to a halt. Almost. Flashes of black light rippled out from where he was slowly forcing his way through the shield, teeth bared. All his focus was on getting through, so he didn’t see the Source’s hand come up until it was too late, and then he was flying across the cavern to crash into the wall and fall in a crumpled heap on the floor.

“ _No!_ ” Phoebe barked, and hurled a potion, doing her best to send it over the top of the wall of flames. She needn’t have bothered, because the flames died out, and the Source grabbed the potion bottle anyway. He crushed it in his fist, triggering the explosion, but he didn’t even flinch. The burst of force and heat and smoke puffed helplessly out from between his fingers, not doing any damage at all. Then he turned his fist face down and opened his hand to let the crushed glass rain out. He couldn’t have said ‘nice try’ any louder even if he’d actually said it out loud.

Phoebe refused to give up, and she threw herself in close before he could bring up his fiery force field again. She threw a punch straight at the Source’s face, which he blocked with the same hand he caught her potion with. The knuckledusters on her gloves sparked, and the Source _flinched_. Phoebe grinned, wild and fierce, and threw another punch. This time, the Source reeled backwards to avoid it, and she pressed forward, seizing the momentary advantage.

“Petty thief!” The Source snarled at her, conjuring a bolt of lightning to fling at her. Phoebe barely threw herself out of the way in time, and her side twinged, sending a wash of warm blood down her hip. She was pretty sure that wasn’t good, but she wasn’t about to let it stop her.

“Wow, that takes me back.” Phoebe quipped, bouncing on the balls of her feet before dodging another surge of lightning. “You didn’t happen to work for Macy’s at some point, oh, five years ago, did you?” Phoebe went on, tossing the words out because they seemed to infuriate the Source.

Of course, infuriating him wasn’t the best plan she’d ever come up with. In his rage, the Source redoubled his attack, forcing her to twist and tumble just to avoid being incinerated, and her wounded side was definitely protesting the abuse. She ignored it right up until she couldn’t, when she tried to dodge a fire-ball and her head spun, and her side twinged so hard she instinctively aborted the movement, only to realise she was _still_ in the path of that fire-ball.

Something large and red crashed into her, and they went tumbling. It hurt everything, but by the time they rolled to a stop, Phoebe was laughing. “We have to stop meeting like this.” She got out between hysterical giggles. Belthazor snarled at her, rising up on one hand to loom over her. Phoebe’s laughter died in her throat. “Cole?” She asked, suddenly feeling remarkably, unnaturally calm.

“ _You…_ ” Belthazor growled, and his free hand grabbed hold of the front of her shirt, claws gouging into the flesh of her chest, to lift her up and slam her back down against the stone floor, sending sparks shooting across her vision. A vicious, furious rumble started up in the depths of his chest. Phoebe, head still reeling, reached up to grab hold of his wrist.

“Me.” Phoebe agreed, meeting his gaze and holding it. Belthazor bared his teeth at her, wrenched his hand out of her grasp and raised it like he was about to strike her. From off to the side, Phoebe heard the Source _laugh_ , a sound right out of her worst nightmares, and she flinched despite herself.

Belthazor’s hand flew out to the side instead of slamming down into Phoebe’s chest or face, and an energy-ball flew straight into the shadows under the Source’s hood. The Source _howled_ and staggered backwards, hands flying up to his face. Belthazor didn’t once look away from Phoebe. Like zapping the most powerful evil in the Underworld in the face was an _afterthought_. “You’re _infuriating_.” He snarled at her.

Phoebe bit her lip to hold back her smile. “I know.” She agreed, trying to sound apologetic instead of stupidly in love. “But let’s kill the Source first, yeah?” She suggested, sliding her hands down his chest. Belthazor growled again, but hauled them both upright, and kissed her, brief and intense, before drawing back and rounding on the Source. Phoebe had to resist the urge to sigh and fan herself. Instead, she forced herself to check on the battleground.

Belthazor and Leo were tag-teaming the Source, and Ciril and Gobmal were hovering near Zankou’s prison, nervous but intent, almost like they were- Yes, they were playing guard to Xar, who had crouched down next to the prison again, and was prodding at something near the base. Phoebe went to join him. “Need some help?” She asked, and Xar jumped and shot her a dirty look.

“I’m not sure. The curse on this is very strong and complex, I don’t know how white magic would interact with it.” Xar admitted. He made a strange gesture in the air, and said several words in Latin. The carved area he was examining flared with light, branding the image of the runes carved into it onto Phoebe’s retinas, but nothing changed. Xar made a frustrated noise, and threw his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. “Oh, go ahead.” He snapped at Phoebe, although his glare was reserved entirely for the etched curse he was trying to break. “It’s not like you could make it any _worse_.”

“Okay, break it down for me, what do these _do_?” Phoebe asked, gesturing at the runes.

Xar began to detail what each one meant and how it worked in conjunction with the others, the binding and the containment to keep Zankou trapped, the shadow and secrecy runes to keep the prison hidden from people who might scry for it, the barrier and shielding to keep all of Zankou’s considerable powers contained and useless, runes of destruction to keep Zankou himself in a harmless form. And they were all twisted together in a way that fed off each other and kept them intertwined so tightly that breaking it apart was nigh on impossible without brute force or a far more intimate knowledge of exactly how the curse was crafted in the first place.

“Well, I’ve been working on a spell ever since we learned Zankou was real, but I’m honestly not sure it’ll work, now.” Phoebe admitted. “I’m not powerful enough by myself to destroy something this well made. Maybe if I added a verse to draw on other powers?” She shook her head almost before she’d finished saying it. “No, that’s too vague, and it would destroy the power of the shape of the spell.”

The battle raged closer to them, and Phoebe glanced up to make sure she wasn’t about to be jumped from behind. The Source had noticed her and Xar, and she could feel his glare from all the way across the cavern, but he couldn’t reach them because Leo and Belthazor were getting in the way, blocking his attempts to attack her and keeping him at something of a distance.

“You will _never_ free that wretched beast!” The Source howled at her, full of conviction and fury that she was even trying. “Five hundred _years_ I’ve kept him trapped down here with that curse, and it won’t be broken by one measly little witch who can’t even call on her sisters to help her anymore.”

Phoebe felt ice fill her veins, settling as a solid lump inside her chest. “You’re right.” She said quietly, but the whole battlefield seemed to go still and silent in the wake of her voice anyway. “I can’t call on my sisters anymore, but I’m not the only power here who wants Zankou out, am I?” She got several curious looks at that, but the Source seemed to catch more of her implications than anyone else, and he hurled a shock-wave of explosive force towards her. Phoebe darted to hide behind Zankou’s prison and fumbled for one of her athames.

It was awkward to hold it in her left hand, but she remembered Cole’s lesson on blood magics, and so the cut had to be on her right hand. She tugged her glove off with her teeth, and winced as she sliced her palm open and let the drops fall onto the runes. An energy-ball came flying towards her, and she had to retreat around the other side of the prison again. But the Source was too late, and Phoebe lifted her right hand to press it as close as she could to the energy shield around Zankou’s deconstructed form. She could feel the power of the curse crackling away under her hand, flickering against her injured palm and sending sickening jolts up her arm, but she focused her attention not on the barrier, but Zankou’s power beyond it. She reached out to it, pictured the man from her vision, and envisioned reaching out a hand to him.

“ _Hidden away beneath the ground, a prison never to be found,_ ” Phoebe began to chant, calling up all her magic, pitting her intent to see Zankou free against the Source’s intent to keep him trapped forever. “ _There bound within by ancient spite, great power longs to join the fight,_ ” She pressed all of her will into the image she had conjured before, of Zankou as he was in her vision, powerful and wily, strong enough to challenge the Source himself for his crown. “ _Our powers twine to form the key, to help me set this demon free_.” She imagined she could feel his hand against hers, his power pressing up against the walls of his prison right where hers was pushing from the outside. She flexed her will, pouring all her focus into the image of two hands, one pale and one tanned, locking together, gripping tight. Then she _pulled_.

There was a sound like a thunderclap, a rumble that shook the entire cavern followed by a hollow _boom_ that was just as much force as it was sound. Phoebe was hurled backwards, flying the full length of the cave to slam into the wall. Her side and head both exploded with pain, and she barely managed to catch herself on her injured palm before her face met the floor. She heard an inarticulate scream of rage, and grinned through the pain, because that meant her desperate gamble had _worked_.

She had to see. She had to _know_ it had worked. So Phoebe forced her head up even though it was still throbbing with agony, and stared. The glowing prison was no more, and the swarm of dark particles was spinning out into the air so enthusiastically, Phoebe could feel the jubilation from the other side of the room. It swelled into a storm, swept out and around, and then coalesced into a miniature whirlwind. Then those particles began piecing themselves back together from the ground up.

Black boots, leather trousers, tanned and calloused hands, a sleeveless leather jacket over gleaming chain-mail, black stubble on a handsome face, piercing eyes, and topped with short black hair that was ruffled by the last lingering breeze of his escape. Zankou met Phoebe’s gaze and smiled, slow and wicked, before inclining his head to her with a gesture almost like a salute, or the tipping of a hat he didn’t have. Respect and gratitude made clear without words, just for a heartbeat, before he turned on his heel to face his jailer.


	15. Chapter 15

“Hello again, old friend.” Zankou greeted the Source with politeness that did nothing to mask the venom underneath his words. His posture was relaxed, his stance settled like he was gearing up for a long chat, not a fight to the death.

“ _Zankou_.” The Source snarled. “I trapped you _once_ , I can do it again.”

“Really?” Zankou asked with an air of casual concern. “With almost half your Council dead, the Triad eliminated, your best assassin stuck topside, and some of your strongest demons turning traitor? Admit it, Dagon, you haven’t got what it takes to hold me anymore.”

The Source didn’t respond with words, but with another shock-wave of explosive force. Zankou lifted one hand and _shoved_ at the air, and the shock-wave parted around him, taking chunks out of the walls on either side, but leaving him entirely unharmed. Then he brought his other hand up to join the first in a whipping, twisting motion that sent a whirl black energy out towards the Source. It erupted into flames before it could reach him, and a swarm of explosion-balls burst out of the ensuing haze of smoke, all flying straight at Zankou.

With a flick of his wrist, Zankou deflected them, sending them careening wildly off into the cavern. Most hit walls or the ceiling, but at least one whipped right back the way it had come. There was a burst of flames, and then the Source reappeared behind Zankou, driving a flaming palm towards the exposed back of his neck. Zankou didn’t even look round, jabbing an elbow back into the Source’s side with enough force to make him stagger, so that the handful of fire dissipated harmlessly against the leather of his jacket. Then he spun, sending a surge of black energy right into the Source’s face.

The Source seemed to explode, flames pouring out in every direction and Zankou recoiled with a yelp, one arm raised to protect his face as he backed away. The flames died and the Source was revealed, for the first time, with his hood down. He was pale, the skin on his bald head seeming almost translucent with how little colour it held, a web of blue and purple veins visible under the skin, and his face was a mangled mess. Half of it was covered in a twisted, ropey tangle of burn scars that stood out red and shiny against his pale skin, and that eye was nothing more than a hollow filled with scar tissue. The other half was speckled with black and red sores from Zankou’s attack, and a bruise-purple lichtenburg figure arched over his good eye from Cole’s.

“I might have lost some of my council, but I’ve spent the last five hundred years gathering power, while _you_ were paralysed and helpless.” The Source gloated, a sneer twisting his lips, flinging fire and energy at his opponent.

“Paralysed and helpless?” Zankou echoed, deflecting and returning the attack. He shook his head with a soft laugh. “That was always your problem, Dagon, you’ve never had enough _imagination_.” Zankou dove forward into a roll that brought him up into the Source’s personal space, and slammed a hand against his chest. There was a shock-wave, and the Source flew backwards, towards Phoebe.

She lurched to her feet, staggered, but kept her balance well enough to spin into a kick, catching the Source across the back with her new greaves. He made a shocked sound, as the blast sent him careening face-first into the floor and skidding several meters back towards Zankou. Phoebe lunged after him, aiming a punch for the back of his head, but there was a whoosh of flames and then he was gone, and her knuckles met only stone.

Instinct had her diving out of the way, and she twisted to see the whirling explosion cradled in the palm of the Source’s hand impact with the ground instead of her back, sending great chunks of stone flying in every direction. There was a roar, and Belthazor came charging out of the dust raised by the explosion, hurling energy-balls that the Source countered with his own, the concussive force of the two projectiles clashing keeping the two fighters apart.

“Up you get.” Zankou murmured in Phoebe’s ear at the same moment his hand closed around her upper arm and hauled her up without any apparent effort. He caught Phoebe’s incredulous look, and smiled blandly. “I think it’s time we stage a strategic retreat.”

“But we’re winning.” Phoebe protested, feeling more than a little betrayed by Zankou’s sudden desire to flee from the fight. He gave her a long look, one eyebrow quirked in politely sceptical disbelief. “This is the first time we’ve managed to match him like this! We’ve got to press our advantage while we have it. If we don’t, next time, he’ll be prepared to face all of us and we’ll never get another opportunity like this!” She ranted at a whisper, because she didn’t want to draw the Source’s attention while they were arguing. She didn’t want to hand him an advantage like strife among allies to exploit.

Zankou’s expression didn’t get any less sceptical, but it did get less polite and more strained. Like he found her words physically painful to listen to. “We’re not winning.” He informed her dryly. “We’re _maybe_ matching him, seven on one, by tag-teaming him. We’ve hit him thrice, superficially, while _you’re_ already badly injured, those two are exhausted already-” He pointed to Ciril and Gobmal. “-and your boyfriend there is fighting himself more than the Source. No.” Zankou shook his head when Phoebe opened her mouth to protest again. “Better to retreat, regroup, and try again. There will _always_ be another opportunity.”

Phoebe stared at him, thrown by his blasé confidence while in the middle of suggesting they run away because they can’t win this fight. “How can you be sure?” Phoebe asked, not because she wasn’t convinced, but just because it didn’t feel right to go along with it without at least a token protest.

“I have been doing this sort of thing for a while.” Zankou responded dryly. The tide of the battle shifted, and the Source found an opportunity to turn on them while the others were all distracted or tangled up or trying to get up after being knocked down. Zankou shimmered himself and Phoebe across the cavern, and then threw out a handful of fire-balls. “Do you have somewhere we can go that’s safe?”

“We’ll need your blood to let you in.” Phoebe informed him.

Zankou gave her a brief look that nonetheless conveyed just how unlikely it was that they’d get their hands on his blood without a fight. Then he shimmered away to reappear right behind the Source, and Phoebe lost track of him in the battle as she was forced to get out of the way of one of the Source’s explosion attacks.

Phoebe dove for cover behind a large chunk of rubble, and found Leo already sitting there, breathing hard and pressing a makeshift bandage against a gash on his forehead that was bleeding profusely into his eye. Leo glanced at her, offered her a grim attempt at a smile, and then peeked around their little chunk of shelter. “So, do we have a plan?” He asked, still craning his neck to see what was going on. Phoebe didn’t need to look, the crashes and explosions were enough to tell her that the fight was still raging, and that was all she really needed to know right now.

“Zankou thinks we ought to flee, but we can’t take him to headquarters, because he’s not about to start handing out his blood to strange witches.” Phoebe surmised for him, shifting to check on her side. She’d bled through her makeshift bandage, of course, and she didn’t have any more spare fabric for another one. She settled for shifting the bandage around a little, even though that rubbed against her open wound and made her want to scream.

“Are we going to have to move headquarters again?” Leo wondered, batting her hands out of the way to take a look at her wound himself.

Phoebe hissed as he poked at the gash, then let her head fall back against the rock and tried to think about it. “I don’t know. Maybe if we can take the heart sigil outside the wards, we could get him to add his blood himself? I’ll ask Cole.”

Leo made a vague sound of acknowledgement, and shucked off his own jacket to use as a makeshift bandage. “Stop throwing yourself about or you’re going to loose too much blood.” He ordered.

“I’ll get right on that.” Phoebe snapped back. “Maybe if you asked the Source really nicely to stop _trying to kill me_ , I’d be able to sit still for more than five minutes at a time!” Leo opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, their shelter exploded, and they both rolled to their feet and dove back into the fight. Phoebe darted in around Belthazor and attempted to trip the Source, only to have to abort when she nearly took a fire-ball to the face. She ducked around Xar to come up on the Source’s blind side, and managed to land a punch with her gloved hand on his shoulder. Bolts of electricity crackled along his arm, and the miniature explosion he’d been conjuring fizzled out in his palm.

With a shout of fury, the Source whipped his arm out, catching Phoebe in the side of the head and sending her sprawling. He loomed over her, conjuring another explosion in his other hand and hurling it down on her. Phoebe just barely rolled out of the way, and was shoved further by the force of the blast and getting pelted by shards of rubble.

When she managed to get an elbow under her and hoist herself, she saw Belthazor actually wrestling with the Source who, despite his thick black robe, didn’t seem to have any trouble grappling with a demon considerably larger than he was. Then he managed to throw Belthazor, who crashed into Ciril and Gobmal, sending all three to the ground in a tangle of limbs. He summoned an explosion-ball, but before he could throw it, Xar was there, peppering the damaged side of the Source’s face with fire-bolts. The Source snarled as one connected with what remained of his ear, and rounded on Xar, hurling the explosion-ball at him instead.

Xar ducked, and wasn’t quite fast enough to avoid a kick to the face. He tumbled over backwards, and the Source advanced on him, another explosion-ball swirling to life in his hand. He threw, and Xar rolled out of the way, coming to a stop on his back again and flinging a spray fire-bolts with a gesture to buy himself time to get to his feet again. It wasn’t enough. The Source conjured up a wave of explosive force just before Belthazor tackled him again, and it hit Xar full on.

For once, there were no screams. Xar just rolled his eyes heavenward, like he just couldn’t believe _that_ was how he was going to go, and then the flames raced up to consume him, and he exploded, sending the Source and Belthazor staggering. Phoebe stared, too shocked to comprehend what had just happened. It hadn’t even occurred to her worry about _Xar_ getting vanquished, but… he was gone, just like that, so casually, so easily.

The fight hadn’t stopped. The explosion had forced enough distance between the Source and Belthazor that their long-range attacks were useful again. They each hurled an energy-ball at the other, but where Belthazor’s seemed to dissipate against the Source’s robe, his managed to catch Belthazor in the arm, impacting right on the sensitive inner flesh of his elbow. Belthazor staggered back, clutching at the wound with his opposite hand, and Phoebe tried desperately to make her limbs cooperate so that she could get back into the fight and _help_.

The movement caught the Source’s attention, and he whipped around to launch a stream of fire from his palm directly at Phoebe. Zankou stepped between them, and deflected the attack. “I told you we were losing.” He remarked to Phoebe with barely a glance over his shoulder.

“Point made.” Phoebe growled irritably, shoving up onto her feet and hating the way she wobbled, headrush turning the world unstable for several seconds. “If you’ve got any bright ideas for how to get away, then I would love to hear them!”

“One, but it’s going to be _very_ messy.” Zankou offered, bright with mischief.

Phoebe sighed, and resigned herself to whatever mad scheme he’d come up with. “If it gets the rest of us out alive, let’s do it.” She relented. Zankou didn’t wait a moment longer to grab her shoulder and flame out, taking her with him.

He deposited her knee deep in mud that smelt like rotten eggs, surrounded by rivers and pools of the stuff and only a few straggly clumps of reeds, little tussocks of dry grass, and the rare dead tree to break the monotony, all under an ugly murky-brown sky filled with dark storm clouds. She made a noise of deep disgust, which didn’t faze Zankou in the least. “I’ll be right back.” He assured her, then flamed out again. For a moment, all Phoebe could smell was smoke, and it was a relief until it dissipated, and all she was left with was the rotting mud.

A moment later, there was another burst of flame, and Zankou reappeared, this time with a struggling Belthazor in a headlock. He flamed out the moment he released Belthazor, so that when said demon whirled around with energy-ball in hand, all he got was a face full of smoke that made him sneeze. The energy-ball went out with a pathetic little fizzle.

Then Belthazor’s eyes locked on Phoebe, and she felt all the adrenaline that had been draining out of her surge back in a heady rush. “Oh, are we gonna do this now?” She asked, and mimed rolling up her sleeves even though her head was still spinning muzzily. “Mud-wrestling, great. It might have been sexy if it didn’t stink like the Underworld’s cesspit.” Then she raised her fists, one hand gloved, the other still bleeding sluggishly, and met Belthazor’s stare with a cocky smirk and a dare in her eyes. Belthazor started to grin.

The moment was completely ruined when Zankou reappeared with Leo, and Leo immediately called out; “Are you two okay?” and tore himself away from Zankou to slog over to them and begin checking Phoebe over for any more injuries than the obvious. Zankou snorted, and flamed out again.

“Leo…!” Phoebe sighed, dropping her fists and rolling her head back.

“What?” Leo asked, then looked between her and Belthazor with slowly widening eyes. He opened his mouth, stopped, then shook his head. “I don’t want to know. I’m not going to ask. Whatever it is, it can wait until you’re _not_ at risk of bleeding out from a gut wound.” He stated firmly.

“ _What_?” Belthazor demanded, and then, after a strained moment where his form wavered and shifted between the two, he was Cole again, and scowling at her in concern. “Bleeding out?”

“Tarath stabbed me, remember?” Phoebe reminded him.

Cole’s expression darkened. “I thought he missed you.”

Phoebe grimaced. “Almost.” She corrected, and gestured to her side. “And it’s _not_ a gut wound, Leo, it’s half a centimeter above my hipbone.” Leo looked very much like he wanted to argue with her, but in that moment Zankou returned, with a hand each fisted in the backs of Ciril and Gobmal’s collars. He let them go surprisingly gently, and drew in a deep, bracing breath like he couldn’t even smell the stink wafting off the mud around them.

“Welcome to the Swamp.” Zankou said, spreading his hands in an invitation for them to take in their surroundings and appreciate them. “It’s dirty, it stinks, but at least no one can track us here.”

“Really?” Phoebe asked in surprise.

Zankou nodded, smirking. “It’s a literal quagmire of evil magic. Sure, they’ll know we came to the Swamp, and Dagon might send out search parties, but our magical trail will get tangled up and lost amongst the shifting energies here.” He waved a hand in the air in a vaguely circular motion, then shrugged. “It’s not a permanent solution, but it gives us time to come up with something better.” That said, he gave the rest of them a very pointed, patient look.

Phoebe met it with a deeply unimpressed look of her own, which had Zankou’s eyebrows flying up, presumably at her audacity. She resolved to ignore him for the time being, and turned instead to Ciril and Gobmal. “Are you two okay?” She asked, trying to be gentle about it. The only reason she was actually upset about Xar’s death was the shock and the loss of a valuable ally, but those two had been working with him for a very long time, had sided with him against the Source.

She got a bewildered look from Gobmal for her troubles, and a rueful little smile from Ciril. “We’ll be fine, it’s just… a shock. I never really thought Xar would ever…” He trailed off and shrugged. “But you’re still going to be fighting the Source, so we’ll stay with you and help how we can, even without Xar.”

“Ah… well, thank you.” Phoebe managed, feeling oddly wrong-footed.

Zankou snorted. When Phoebe turned a disgruntled face on him – she was _not_ pouting, thank you very much – he grinned at her without a hint of remorse. “Oh, you mortals.” He said, sounding like he was talking about a much beloved but very stupid pet. Phoebe bristled, but he continued on before she could snap something insulting back. “We don’t grieve, not like you do.” He explained. “We might rage, if a long-standing ally is taken from us, and some of the upper-level demons can get very… proprietary about their minions, and get very distressed if one is vanquished, but it’s… Well, it’s more like how a mortal child would react to breaking a favourite toy, I think, than what you call mourning.”

Taken aback by that insightful and thoughtful response, Phoebe found she couldn’t quite muster up any words that felt appropriate. “Demons can’t love, Phoebe, so loss isn’t the same.” Leo reminded her, in a rather edged tone of voice. Phoebe glanced at him, and they shared a moment of acute understanding. They were both, in that moment, torn between a powerful sense of pity and a vicious sort of jealousy.

“It’s quite fascinating, really.” Zankou mused. “The way you mortals _feel_ , so intensely. You leave yourselves utterly defenceless in the astral plane, and gain such _power_ from it. It makes no sense, and yet it clearly works for you. Amazing.”

“Ever thought of trying it yourself?” Cole asked, amused and almost clinically interested in the answer. Phoebe had to admit, she was curious too. She’d never heard a demon talking about human emotions that way before, not even Cole, because he was half-mortal himself, and so he got a front-row seat to the experience.

Zankou laughed. “Hellfire, no.” Then he shot Cole a conspiratorial smirk. “No, you’re quite welcome to keep that mess all to yourself, Belthazor. Or Cole. Do let me know when you decide which you prefer, I _would_ be interested to know.”

That was treading dangerously close to an issue they were still trying to untangle. Cole’s expression shut down, turning cool and blank, not giving anything away, and Phoebe wanted to smack Zankou for bringing it up like that. With Belthazor locked away again, she had a horrid feeling Cole was going to start beating himself up again for what happened. “I don’t know that he has to _pick one_.” She pointed out, ostensibly speaking to Zankou, but saying it entirely for Cole’s benefit. Both demons turned to stare at her with politely incredulous expressions. “They’re _both_ a part of him, aren’t they? So why can’t he _be_ both, without it turning into some sort of Jekyll-and-Hyde-esque battle for dominance?”

They were both staring at her, so Phoebe stared back, eyes flicking between them with eyebrows raised and mouth pulled into a moue of impatience. “It would be interesting to see if it’s possible.” Zankou finally acknowledged, like it was a philosophical puzzle she’d posed, rather than an important question about the fundamentals of someone’s life. Cole, on the other hand, was _still_ staring, and there was a crack in his cool mask, showing a hint of uncertainty, something that wasn’t quite fear but still hovered too close to it for comfort.

“Just a thought.” Phoebe said for his benefit, sweeping the subject aside. They could have the rest of that conversation later, when they had a chance to be alone for a while. Cole made an agreeing face, and looked at their surroundings with an assessing eye. “Oh, right, getting out of here.” Phoebe remembered. “Cole, I had a thought about that. Is it possible to take a heart sigil _out_ of the wards it’s anchoring, or does it have to stay inside?”

Cole’s eyebrows flew up. “I… don’t know that anyone’s ever tried before.” He admitted. “It’s certainly not a good idea. _Anyone_ could tamper with it, if it’s outside the wards, so they’d become almost obsolete.”

“Not if it was only for a little while.” Phoebe pointed out, then glanced at Zankou. “I just thought you might not be so adverse to adding _yourself_ to our blood wards, rather than having to trust us with a drop of your blood.”

Zankou shrugged one shoulder easily. “I think blood wards are an _excellent_ idea, as long as no one takes my blood somewhere I can’t get to if I need to.” He confirmed for her.

Cole sighed. “I suppose it’s worth a try.” He capitulated with obvious reluctance. “Phoebe and I can go and see if it _can_ even be taken outside the wards, and if it can, then one of us can carry it, and the other can stand guard.” He decided, giving both Phoebe and Leo a look that just about dared them to try and argue against that plan. Phoebe didn’t feel like _another_ fight, so she just nodded, and didn’t point out that two guards would be better than one.

Slogging through the mud to get to Cole’s side was a disgusting experience, and Phoebe got mud splashed up as high as her waist, which made her worry, just a little, about how clean her wound would be able to stay. Then she was close enough for Cole to grab her hand and shimmer them both back to their headquarters.

Immediately upon landing, they both began to form a puddle of viscous brown gunk around their boots. “Oh, _ew_.” Phoebe complained, lifting one foot and giving it a little shake. Mud splattered across the floor, and she stopped quickly. “Someone’s going to have to clean that up, because I am not staying here if it starts to smell like hell’s asshole.”

Cole snorted, even as he squished his way over to the large rock they’d drawn their heart sigil on this time. “I’d be the more efficient guard, but can you carry it with your wound?” He asked, concern flashing across his face as he looked between Phoebe and the stone. “I just didn’t want to leave you alone with Zankou, but I can go back and get Leo if-”

“I’m not helpless, Cole.” Phoebe reminded him.

“No, you’re _injured_.” Cole corrected, while entirely missing Phoebe’s point. Or just ignoring it, which was far more likely, and also far more annoying.

Phoebe gave him a sour look. “Either way.” She retorted, and crouched down to wrap her arms around the rock. It was about the same size as a beach ball only more oblong and lumpy, maybe a little bit larger, and definitely a lot heavier. “Oof!” Phoebe grunted as she hefted the damned thing into her arms and forced her legs to straighten, even though her thigh muscles protested indignantly. “Okay, let’s go.” She managed to get out.

Cole stepped forwards to help her, fitting his arms underneath hers and taking what felt like far more than half the weight. “I’m not testing this by trying to shimmer it out. We take it out down the tunnel first to see if we even _can_.” He insisted. Phoebe groaned, but couldn’t deny that he had a point. They shuffled across the cavern like an awkward crab, and hesitated once they reached the tunnel entrance. “I’m going to let go now.” Cole warned her, and even waited for Phoebe to nod before he did so.

Cole went across the wards first, energy-ball in hand and eyes scanning the far end of the tunnel carefully while Phoebe edged one foot over the invisible line, shuffled her weight, and turned her torso – ignoring the pull of her wound – to pivot the heart sigil over the wards. Nothing stopped it, there was no invisible barrier, just a tiny hint of a vibration when it left the confines of the wards completely. “There- we go!” Phoebe wheezed.

“It’s out?” Cole checked without looking around, and Phoebe huffed out an affirmative. He backed up until he could grab hold of her shoulder with his free hand, and then they were knee-deep in evil swamp muck again. Phoebe almost lost her balance, but Ciril and Gobmal both stepped forwards to help steady it, so she let them have it, gratefully handing off the weight to squelch backwards and pull an athame from among the collection she always carried with her nowadays to hand to Zankou.

Thankfully, he didn’t dawdle. He made the cut on his finger without fanfare, and squeezed a drop onto the stone next to the others easy as you please. Phoebe felt the wards shift to accommodate him. “Right, let’s get that back to safety A-SAP.” She instructed, and Cole grabbed Ciril and Gobmal, while Leo offered Phoebe and Zankou a hand, which they both took.

Once they landed, Zankou gave a full-body shudder. “Well that was…” He began, and then didn’t seem to be able to find an adequate word to describe it, though his expression of distaste said plenty enough all by itself.

“Isn’t it?” Cole asked with a matching expression.

Leo gave them both a put-out look, and Phoebe snorted, then went to help Ciril and Gobmal get the heart sigil back into place. “Whoa, Phoebe, what do you think you’re doing?” Leo jumped in before she could.

“Helping?” Phoebe suggested, because really, it should be obvious.

“Not with your side still cut open and bleeding everywhere you’re not.” Leo insisted. “Get those dirty clothes off, and then sit down so I can check you over and at least _try_ to clean it out.” Phoebe opened her mouth to protest, but the look Leo gave her was stern enough that it killed any objections before they could pass her teeth. Reluctantly, she slumped over to the corner she and Cole had claimed, and changed out of her dirty clothes.

Then she slumped over to Leo’s workstation, where he was already busy mixing up what she was sure would be an antiseptic paste, and dropped reluctantly onto the rickety stool Leo kept there so that he had somewhere to shove his patients when he thought they ought not to be standing up. “Happy now?” She asked, well aware she sounded like a teenager, but too miffed to really care.

“Ecstatic.” Leo replied without any sincerity at all, more distracted than anything else.

Phoebe at least had the pleasure of watching everyone else get subjected to the same treatment. Even Zankou, who looked positively bewildered at this treatment, and although he didn’t outright protest – having seen already that it was useless – he never quite lost that look of confusion as Leo cleaned the two small burns he’d managed to acquire, one on the back of his hand, the other just under his ear.

Leaving them to it, Phoebe sought out Cole, and found him brooding in their ‘bedroom’. “Hi.” She greeted pointedly, flopping down beside him and curling her knees up to her chest. Cole returned the greeting, and slipped an arm around her shoulders. “So how would you feel about heading to the lair and taking some personal time, now that we’re all patched up?” She asked, then nudged him with her shoulder. “You still owe me a fight, mister.”

Cole made a small sound in the back of his throat. “Phoebe, you’re injured.”

“Cole, if we wait until I’m not injured to sort this mess out, we’re _never_ going to sort it out.” Phoebe pointed out, and waited out the annoyed glowering that resulted.

“I’m not going to-” Cole began.

“But you want to, and the wanting to doesn’t go away just because I’m a bit banged up.” Phoebe countered, and going by the way his scowl only deepened, she was one hundred percent right. “ _I know_. I’m not a saint, Cole, however much we like to pretend that I’m the good one here.”

“You _are_ good.” Cole protested.

“And so are you.” Phoebe retorted. “And you’re also kind of bad. And so am I.” She paused, thinking about how to even begin to try and articulate the nebulous thoughts whirling around in her mind. “And however you want to define it, I really don’t want to have this conversation where people can overhear us, or interrupt us. Can we go to the lair, please?”

“As long as you’re not going to try and start a fight the moment we get there.” Cole insisted.

“I promise.” Phoebe assured him. Cole eyed her dubiously, so Phoebe gave him her most winsome smile, which made him laugh to himself. He was still smiling as he shimmered out and dropped them in a nest of blankets they’d put together in the lair for precisely this purpose. And now Phoebe really needed to figure out what on earth she was going to say.


	16. Chapter 16

Phoebe took her time, settling into their little nest and dragging blankets up over them both and tucking them in. Cole watched her with incredible patience, although in the glances she kept stealing, she could see that he was getting more concerned by the moment. “So… In that screaming match we had right in front of everybody…” She began, leaning back against Cole’s shoulder where he was propped against a stalagmite they’d covered with several blankets to make it less cold and uncomfortable to lean against. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, even though she could feel tension in the muscles she was resting her head on. “I mentioned wanting to talk to you.”

“You did.” Cole remembered. “What about?”

Phoebe sighed, and snuggled down, twisting and shifting until she was sitting in such a way that Cole couldn’t hope to see her face from that angle. “I used blood magic again.” She said the words quickly, because she wasn’t sure she’d be able to say them at all if she let herself delay any longer.

Then she realised just how uninformative that was, and winced. “I know, I saw.” Cole acknowledged, then she felt him shake his head. “No, that was after our argument. You mean you used it after we did the wards on the headquarters?” He checked.

“Yeah.” Phoebe confirmed. “I…” The words stuck in her throat. She remembered that rush of power with a mixture of visceral horror and intense longing. The physicality of it, she put down to it being a brute demon she’d been stealing from, but the magic itself had been a rush all its own, and she wanted to feel that again, to feel that powerful, that invincible.

“It bothered you?” Cole checked. Then he huffed a dark laugh. “And you think you’ve got any evil in you at all?” He asked her wryly.

“Yes.” Phoebe confirmed. Then she pulled his arm up more snug around her shoulders and buried the bottom half of her face against his skin. “This was… it wasn’t like the wards. That’s… that’s just me, and my power, tied into a spell to protect. It might be counted as so-called dark magic, but it’s… it’s not really, is it? It’s all about protection, safety, giving of yourself to defend others.”

It took Cole a long time to answer that. “I… suppose you can look at it that way.” He hedged eventually, but he didn’t sound completely convinced.

“This- What I did? Cole, it was _horrible_. It wasn’t giving anything, it was just… _taking_ , from someone else, without their permission, because I got their blood on my athame, and I- It was _awful_ , and I _loved it_.” Phoebe managed to get out, shuddering as her own words reached her ears. Any witch knew that saying things out loud gave them power. Saying this out loud made it real, made it something she couldn’t deny within her own mind.

Cole was silent again, for long enough that Phoebe began to feel terribly worried, like she’d made an awful mistake by admitting it to him, by telling him. It was irrational, she knew he wouldn’t abandon her for being less good, because he had the same problem. Of everyone she knew, he was the only person who she thought could really understand what it was like to have something like that be a part of you, a part you couldn’t deny, but wished you could. “What, exactly, did you do?” Cole asked finally, and Phoebe almost cried when she realised he sounded more curious than wary.

“I… I stole his powers. His magic.” Phoebe explained, squeezing her eyes tight shut, as if that might make the awfulness of that go away. It didn’t, it only helped her replay the memories of vanquishing the other demon with one kick in vivid colour. “It was a brute demon, and I cast a spell with his blood, to bind his powers. I don’t… I don’t really know how that translated to me getting them, but-”

“If you’d done it without his blood, it probably would only have bound his powers within himself, locked them down where he couldn’t reach them. That’s the white magic version. But you took his blood. Blood is life, and life is magic. So when you bound his magic through the blood you’d taken, you pulled it out of him, and it became bound to you, and the blood you’d taken, instead.” Cole explained clinically.

“Oh.” Phoebe murmured. She wasn’t sure if she’d _wanted_ the explanation.

“Of course, you _couldn’t_ have done a white magic binding on anyone who wasn’t willing.” Cole pointed out. “So if you hadn’t had his blood, the spell wouldn’t have worked at all.

Phoebe frowned. “But… Mom and Grams bound our powers when we were little and had no idea what they were doing.” She explained. “I mean, I was too young to even remember, but Prue and Piper were old enough to know about and use their magic. And I’m pretty sure any kid would be against giving up their super special magic powers, I mean, come on!”

Cole huffed a laugh, and Phoebe blinked back tears of relief. “Yes, well, she was your mother. Your grandmother. I’m sure Prue and Piper trusted them implicitly. If your mother handed them a drink and said ‘drink this, it’s good for you’ would they resist?”

“Maybe if they thought it was vegetables.” Phoebe muttered, heart twisting in her chest, but it was muted, distant, and she could ignore it. She didn’t know if that was better or worse than when her grief had been too powerful to ignore.

“You see my point, though? Consent in magic is a tricky business. It doesn’t always have to be explicit, or even knowingly given. If someone you trust tells you that this potion will help, and you accept it, that’s consent, even if you have no idea what it does.” Cole expounded.

“Oh.” Phoebe said again. “That sounds really dodgy, actually.”

“That’s what most demons think.” Cole agreed. “Of course, we’re no better. We don’t bother with awkward things like consent anyway. You take what you can, and don’t worry about anyone you might be hurting, or catching in the crossfire.”

“That sucks too.”

“Mm.” Cole agreed.

They lapsed into silence. Phoebe knew she ought to drag them back to the original topic, but she really, really didn’t want to. “So.” She said, and then stalled. Cole’s arm tightened around her, giving her a light squeeze, maybe as encouragement. It certainly helped. “That- I don’t know, Cole. I’m… Honestly, I’m so tired of trying to be good all the time? And feeling bad for doing these things. Because… because it won’t stop me? If I got my hands on the Source’s blood tomorrow, I would be _all over_ stealing his powers and stabbing him while he’s down.”

Cole drew in a breath, and shifted to curl around her more securely. “What if it was my blood?” He asked, off-hand like it was just an idle hypothetical. Phoebe’s breath caught, her entire body humming with the sudden, intense surge of desire that flooded through her. There was terror close on its heels, a rush of danger and adrenaline and a wild and terrible sort of joy. She hadn’t felt anything like that since… since she was a teenager, actually, dating all the wrong boys and getting herself in way over her head just because she could. Or, well, perhaps that time when she’d been cursed evil, and had goaded Belthazor out of hiding and into making out with her.

Cole laughed right against her ear, making her shiver and cling to him. It was a quiet, easy sound, but there was an edge to it she wasn’t quite sure how to read. Delighted, maybe, or relieved. “You liked the sound of that, didn’t you? Me helpless before you, all my power at your disposal, all my magic yours to command.” He mused, low and wicked, and Phoebe could only make a sound that was half encouragement and half desperate protest.

Somehow, Cole seemed to understand, and he didn’t push any further, but he didn’t back off or let go of her, either. He just nuzzled his face into the side of her neck and waited, breathed, while she tried to sort her own feelings out. “Is that bad?” She finally asked.

The breath Cole let out then shook, Phoebe could feel it in the way his chest shuddered against her back, and in the air against her neck. “I don’t know.” He admitted finally. “My instinct says no. I want that, too. I want to do that for you, I want _you_ like that, for me. It feels… natural? Normal? Right.” Phoebe smiled faintly at that, and tipped her head just enough to rest it against his. “But I’m half demon. What feels right to me isn’t necessarily _good_ , and I… I’ve hurt you too many times to be able to trust my own judgement on things like that.”

Phoebe had to laugh at that. It wasn’t a very happy sound, nor a very healthy one. She turned her face to press it into Cole’s hair, nose brushing the shell of his ear, and laughed until she felt like crying. “Yeah.” She agreed finally. “That sounds… scarily accurate for me, too.” Cole tried to shake his head, but Phoebe wasn’t about to put up with that. She untangled herself just enough so that she could look him in the eye. “Don’t you try to tell me I haven’t hurt you. I have too; just as many times as you’ve hurt me. I try to be ‘good’, to do the ‘right’ thing, and I just end up kicking you in the teeth instead.”

Cole looked dubious. “I trust your judgement a hell of a lot more than I trust mine.”

Phoebe couldn’t help snorting at that. “God, you _shouldn’t_.” She told him, almost laughing. “Did you miss the part when I mentioned it’s officially on record that a _cupid_ told me I was bad at relationships?”

“At least you’re _good_.” Cole protested.

“Am I, though?” Phoebe wondered, killing the moment of near light-hearted banter. She settled back against Cole’s side. “I don’t… I don’t feel very good, at the moment, but I also… don’t feel like I care? And that scares me.”

“You haven’t… lost the things that I always saw as good in you, before all of this.” Cole began, slow and thoughtful. He waved a hand in the air to indicate that he meant their present situation, then tucked that hand back around her middle and propped his chin on her shoulder. “But there’s more to you now that… that provokes Belthazor in me, draws him out. You’re starting to fit with him, just as much as you fit with me, and that… yeah.” He bumped his head lightly into hers. “That is scary.”

“How do you live with it?” Phoebe wondered. “That… duality? How do you manage being both Cole and Belthazor?”

“I don’t.” Cole answered at once. Phoebe shifted so that she could turn her head and stare, dumbfounded, at his cheekbone. Cole tipped his head so that he could look her in the eye and raised his eyebrows at her. “For the first… six years of my life, I was Cole Turner, human child. I didn’t even _know_ I had another side, another part of me, so there was no need to be more than what I was. Then, for the next… hundred and… something? Years, I was Belthazor, and I squashed any hint of my human half. Then I met you, and even wearing my human face, I stayed… well, Belthazor inside. Until… until I started to fall in love with you. That _couldn’t_ have come from Belthazor. And then I was more Cole, and I struggled to suppress a part of myself I’d been revelling in for so long, but I did it, because you were worth that. And now… now, I don’t even know if it’s _possible_ to be both.”

Phoebe nudged her head under his, tucking herself right in against him until she could feel his pulse against her temple. “I… I want to believe it is.” She admitted. “I worry that it makes me… a bit evil to even think this, but I think I’m coming to love Belthazor just as much as I love Cole.”

A shudder ran through Cole at that, and he held her tight for a moment, as if trying to anchor himself. Phoebe worried that she might have said the wrong thing, but then Cole tugged her around so that he could kiss her. “You shouldn’t.” He breathed against her lips, and Phoebe wrinkled her nose in instinctive dislike for that phrase. Cole huffed in amusement. “Everything I’ve ever known tells me you shouldn’t.” He corrected, not that that sounded much better to Phoebe. “But maybe I should stop worry about being good or evil, being one or the other, and just… be whatever you want and need.”

“Then be yourself. Whoever that happens to be.” Phoebe informed him primly.

Cole grinned, despite the hint of dampness in his eyes. Phoebe saw that, saw the way he was looking at her like she was a marvel, and leaned in to kiss him. He kissed her back like she was the only thing keeping him alive, keeping him sane, and Phoebe lost herself in the depths of it. When they finally broke apart, she felt breathless from more than just the physicality of the kiss. “You have to tell me, though,” Cole insisted, still so close and just as breathless as she was, “if I ever… _hurt_ you. If what I am ever scares you.”

“Sometimes I like you scary.” Phoebe reminded him.

“If I ever scare you in a bad way.” Cole rephrased, smiling helplessly, but also managing to look a little desperate behind his fondness. “As long as you promise me you’ll _tell me_ before I break us by being myself, then I’ll try to just be myself, whoever that happens to be.” He offered.

Phoebe nodded. “Okay. I can do that.” She agreed, kissing him again, short and sweet. “Will you promise me the same thing? If being good means hurting you, and being evil means not being able to love you, then I don’t know how I’m supposed to be. But… if _you_ can tell me when I’m… putting _us_ in danger, then I can trust that, I think, more than I trust any ideas I have about what it means to be a good person.” She explained awkwardly, still trying to find the root of her own dilemma.

“I can do that.” Cole confirmed for her, and kissed her again.

They hadn’t really fixed anything. Phoebe still felt frightened by her own desires, and she still couldn’t work out whether it was more frightening that she felt that way at all, or that she sometimes didn’t _care_ that she felt that way. That hadn’t gone away. And she still didn’t know what that meant about her as a person, if she was still the white witch everyone insisted on calling her, the last of the Charmed Ones, or if she was turning evil and losing her last connection to her sisters and her old life.

But the idea of going on, of moving forward with this uncertainty, was much easier to bear when she had confirmation that Cole would be there beside her. The idea of being evil was a lot less scary when she knew that Cole would pull her back before she lost herself completely. The idea of being good was less scary, too, when she knew that Cole would tell her when she was using her morals as an excuse to push him away because she was scared.

There had been times, in the past, when she had trusted herself, and not the fear in her heart. She had looked at Cole when he was dangerous, when he was playing evil, and acting in a way that seemed wrong, and she’d known where the line was. She had felt it, in her heart, clear as crystal, when that thrill of fear and danger and excitement went from good to bad. She could trust herself that much, if Cole said he trusted her that much. They could do this, together.

“I love you.” Phoebe told him, because it was true.

Cole pressed his forehead to hers, eyes closed like the words hurt him. Phoebe freed an arm from their nest of blankets to cup his face, trying to draw him out of himself. He smiled, and leaned into her touch, so she wasn’t too worried. “I love you, too.” He answered, and Phoebe could tell he’d put his whole heart into those words. That he meant them in a desperate, aching way that touched her in a way no sweeter, softer declaration could.

They loved each other, and it wasn’t always kind, sometimes it gutted them with how much they needed each other, but it was always _true_. And that? That went beyond something as petty as good and evil. That was bigger and more important than a war that had been waged in the shadows for six thousand years. It was a rock they could stand on when everything else was uncertainty and chaos.

They stayed there, in their little nest of blankets in their secret lair, for as long as they could, drawing the moment of peace out as far as it could be stretched. They knew they’d have to get back to their war – and that was what it was turning into, Phoebe had to admit – eventually, but for just now, they were intent on basking in their moment alone for as long as they could.

But eventually, they grew restless, and Phoebe had to admit to being worried about leaving Leo alone with only Zankou and Xar’s old minions for company. He might be feeling just a little bit out numbered. So they reluctantly got up and shimmered back to their headquarters.

They found on their return, that Ciril and Gobmal had gone straight to sleep and stayed that way the entire time. They were clearly deeply asleep, so they made sure to stay fairly quiet as they made their way over to the central area where they’d all set up their workstations, Phoebe and Cole their altars, Xar his odd alchemy set up, and Leo his healing herbs and mixtures. Leo was sitting there, working on something that Phoebe was fairly sure was more antiseptics. There wasn’t any sign of Zankou anywhere.

“Did Zankou run off on us?” Phoebe asked.

Leo’s head came up sharply, but he relaxed instantly, and shook his head. “No, he said he wanted to look into some things, and that he’d be back soon.” He explained, going back to his work. “Is everything okay with you two?” He asked in a carefully nonchalant tone.

“Yeah.” Phoebe confirmed with a smile she just couldn’t help. “We got some important things off our chests, and managed to come up with a few answers to our problems.” She explained, being vague because she didn’t really want to explain to Leo about how good dark magic could feel. He was still clinging tightly to his old attitude about good and evil, and Phoebe really wasn’t in the mood for judgement.

“Good.” Leo said, but it didn’t sound entirely sincere.

Phoebe winced, and Cole stepped away from her to go up to Leo and clap a bracing hand to his shoulder. Leo glanced up, and for a moment, the hollow agony in his eyes made Phoebe’s heart ache with empathetic grief. It was stupid, but for a moment, she’d forgotten that Leo had lost his _wife_ in the same moment Phoebe had lost her sisters. She could have kicked herself. Then he smiled, and he just looked tired again, none of that pain visible at all.

“Ah, you’re back.”

Phoebe turned with no small amount of relief to find Zankou standing in the middle of their workstations, giving them all a smile that Phoebe was beginning to suspect was at least fifty percent bullshit. “We’re back.” Cole agreed.

“If everyone’s feeling somewhat more rested, I think we ought to discuss,” Zankou waved a hand in the air, “plans, goals, etcetera.” He paused to look at the three of them. “If you’re up for it?” He prompted, and Phoebe almost believed that if they said they weren’t, he’d politely wait until they were. It was a strange feeling to have about a demon as infamous as Zankou.

“I’m game.” Phoebe confirmed, and Cole and Leo both nodded.

“Excellent.” Zankou agreed, clapping his hands together and settling down easy as you please on one of the rickety stools available. He then waved a hand, and a trio of other stools shimmered into existence in a loose semi-circle in front of him. Exchanging a look with Leo and Cole, Phoebe picked the middle stool and sat down, with Leo on her left and Cole on her right. “First things first, I really do owe you a thank you, Phoebe.” He said, meeting her gaze, and letting the bullshit smile drop. He looked solemn, and entirely sincere. “I’ve been waiting five hundred years to escape that cage, and you got me out. You shed blood to get me out. I’m in your debt for that.” He inclined his head to her, almost like a bow.

“I wasn’t exactly being selfless.” Phoebe pointed out.

Zankou smirked. “No one ever is, down here.” He reminded her. “Which is why I take debts so seriously. So, if you ever need anything, you can call on me without consequences. Just the once.”

“Noted.” Phoebe acknowledged dryly. “And by the way, asking you to help us kill the Source doesn’t count, because you’d be trying to do that anyway.” She informed him, which turned his smirk into a grin as he shrugged in acceptance. “So, how are we going to kill the Source?”

“Hmm…” Zankou rubbed a hand over his mouth as he thought, staring intently into the middle distance. “You’ve created a surprisingly effective guerrilla force by yourselves. You _will_ need allies in order to actually kill Dagon, but I don’t think we need to mess with a good thing. You three – and your new minions – should stay as you are. You risk too much by allowing other demons into your sanctuary, as you’ve recently observed.” He gestured to Phoebe’s side.

“So you think we should continue to harass him like we have been doing, and you’ll do… what?” Leo pressed, giving Zankou a fairly mistrustful look.

Zankou smiled into that glare. “ _I_ will create my own lair, recruit a small army from the dregs that Dagon is too proud to realise might be useful, and make several large, flashy attacks on his strongholds, kill a few of his prize soldiers, and piss him off so much that he won’t even notice when you sidle up behind him and stab him in the back.”

Phoebe grinned. “I like that plan.”

“You don’t want to do the stabbing yourself?” Leo challenged.

“I just want to see him lose _everything_.” Zankou declared, still smiling faintly even as his eyes turned hard with old, long-nursed fury. “I want him to suffer eternal torment for five hundred years the way I did, desperately searching for an escape that never comes, _knowing_ that I’m still here, where he wants to be, flourishing on the back of _his_ hard work, sitting on _his_ throne, commanding _his_ armies, ruling _his_ kingdom. I want the injustice of it all to make him _writhe_ .” There was a breathless second as they all hardly dared to move in the face of such an ancient grudge. “I don’t have to be the one to do the deed.” Zankou concluded, that rage slipping back under the surface like it had never been there. “Thinking like that is a good way to fail spectacularly, anyway. It gives your enemy far too many chances to slip through your grasp and survive to kill you later. I’ll be content to just _hear_ about his death, but I’d prefer to watch him burn.”

“Well, I don’t have a problem with that.” Cole remarked.

Leo nodded. “Works for me.”

“There’s just one problem.” Phoebe pointed out with a grimace. Immediately, she had the attention of the other three. “We still don’t know how to kill the Source. He took an energy-ball to the face and barely flinched. He took…” Phoebe gestured helplessly at Zankou. “Whatever it was you did, and it only hurt him a little. You were right when you said he was still kicking our asses.”

“True.” Zankou acknowledged, a faint line appearing between his brows as he puzzled over the problem. “Dagon has always been hardy, for a demon, but I imagine it’s his position and power as the Source that’s rendering him so hard to kill. If we could get rid of the rest of his power base, that might make it easier to kill him.”

“You mean the rest of the Council.” Cole concluded.

“Yes.” Zankou nodded. “Perhaps not all of them, but if we can whittle it down by another five, I think that would do. It would completely destroy the symbolic magic of the Council. But then there is still the problem of finding something with enough power to kill Dagon, and keeping him still long enough to make it stick.”

Phoebe chewed on her lip for a moment, but she just couldn’t let herself keep it a secret. It was an idea, and one she thought might actually work. “I keep thinking… if I could just get my hands on his blood, I could bind his powers to me and then kill him that way.”

Zankou’s eyebrows flew up, and Leo made an unhappy sound, but didn’t outright protest. “I wouldn’t have expected that from you.” Zankou admitted. “It’s a good idea, but – forgive me for being frank – I’m not sure you could withstand it. Even without any Council to speak of, Dagon is still an extremely powerful demon, more so than any other, even myself. You might be less good than I anticipated, but you’re still mortal, and you still have good in you. Trying to channel _that much_ dark magic? It could burn you up from the inside out. Then you would be dead and Dagon would have his powers back.”

Phoebe puffed up her cheeks with air and let it out in an explosive sigh. “Okay, that’s a bad plan.”

Cole snorted, and Leo muttered “no kidding” into his knuckles.

“I suppose I could fall back on old habits, and try to write a spell.” Phoebe offered, without much enthusiasm. “But without the Power of Three, I don’t see that I could put enough power behind it to make it work.” She had a moment to wish she had her sisters with her, and then felt sick with ugly gallows humour, because of course, if her sisters were alive, she wouldn’t _be_ here, so it was a stupid, useless thing to wish for anyway.

“I don’t know…” Zankou murmured, and Phoebe shook off her grief to stare at him in blatant question. He glanced up from his intent contemplation of nothing in particular, caught her gaze, and shrugged unhelpfully. “Everything I know about magic tells me you’re right, but… Dagon wouldn’t be hunting you _this intently_ if he wasn’t afraid of what you could do, and only a threat to his very existence would frighten him that much. So I think it’s safe to say you _can_ kill him. Or at least, he believes you can, and that gives you an extraordinary amount of power over him.”

“That makes sense.” Cole agreed, looking surprised but thoughtful. “Although, I’d suggest it’s not really _Phoebe_ he fears, but the potential she represents. Warren witches have always been a thorn in his side, for over three hundred years.”

“Great, I’ll just weaponise that _potential_.” Phoebe snarked under her breath. The thought ached, because all of Phoebe’s potential was in the threat that she would continue the Warren line of witches. Which, right now, was laughable. Even if it wasn’t, the very thought of waiting, of biding her time until she could raise her own children into soldiers in her war against the Source was abhorrent.

“You may have to.” Zankou stated. “I don’t claim to know much about white magic, but if it’s anything like dark magic, there has to be some symbolic aspect.” He raised an eyebrow, and Phoebe nodded reluctantly. Zankou gestured like he was offering her something. “There you go. Use yourself as the symbol. Dagon has already made you into a symbol of his fear, so tap into that.”

Phoebe opened her mouth to reject the idea, and stopped. “That… might work, actually.”


	17. Chapter 17

What felt like a few weeks passed, which Phoebe spent mostly going on as she had before. She laid blood traps, raided various upper level demons, and generally was a pain in the Source’s backside. After a few days, she’d also sent Ciril and Gobmal to help Zankou however he needed, and moved herself, Leo, and Cole back into their blood-warded lair, since it was safer. They still worked in their headquarters, but they slept in the lair. She and Cole also tried a few different ways to get a message to her father, but the transport spell on a letter, and the astral projection spell, _and_ her attempt to psychically commune with their old spirit board all failed.

Dispirited, Phoebe channelled her emotions into petty vengeance against the Source’s minions. She _wanted_ to move against the Source’s Council, but Leo and Cole both thought it would be best to wait for Zankou to be ready to move with them. Phoebe still left a note for Astaroth, asking who she thought might be the best targets. She got a numbered list in response, ordered from least to most difficult to kill based on factors like their skill in direct battle, their skill at subterfuge, their defences, how reckless they were, and how much Astaroth didn’t like them.

Phoebe couldn’t help but laugh when she saw it, and she took it to show to Cole. “Do you know anything about any of them?” She asked him, after they were both done snickering.

Cole started at the bottom and worked up. “Bael is the leader of the Infernal Council. Trying to kill him would be like trying to kill the Source. We could probably do it, with a lot of effort and planning, and at great personal risk. Paimon I don’t know much about, but he’s on the Infernal Council itself, and I think he’s an advisor of sorts to the Source, so he’s probably keeping him close right now. Seire-”

“Wait.” Phoebe interrupted, because when she’d read the name, she’d read it as if it was pronounced ‘say-ree’, but Cole had read it as ‘seer’. “It’s pronounced like seer?”

It was obvious that Cole was trying not to laugh. “Is this going to be another Leraikhe?” He asked.

Phoebe glared at him. “It is not my fault you have to be fluent in German to be able to hack her name up from the back of your throat.” She protested, but then shook her head and pressed on to the _actual_ issue. “Is she? A seer, I mean.”

“Oh, yes.” Cole confirmed. “Most demons know her only as The Seer, and they think it’s just a title, a sort of honour, for being one of the strongest seers in the Underworld, and none of them realise it’s actually her _name_. She’s not that powerful herself, only on the High Council, but she’s probably as low down on this list as she is because she’d see any attack on her coming a mile away.”

“Didn’t… Tarath mention The Seer when we were torturing him for information on Zankou?” Phoebe recalled, straining her memory. That conversation felt like such a long, long time ago, even though it couldn’t have been more than a month, maybe a month and a half at a stretch. “Something about being one of the ones who supported the Source’s original rise to power, I think?”

“She _is_ one of his staunchest supporters.” Cole told her, indifferent.

Phoebe huffed in irritation. “I wish I could remember the other names he mentioned. I meant to ask you about them and I completely forgot in the rush to free Zankou. I… I think one of them was Dagon, but I could just be thinking that because Zankou kept using it to refer _to_ the Source, and I’m getting it mixed up.” Cole just shrugged. Phoebe pursed her lips at him. “Okay, never mind. What about the rest of them?”

“Kimaris… the only reason I can imagine that she’s so far down the list is because Astaroth likes her. She’s not very strong as demons go, and she got where she is mostly by trading favours on the sly, or blackmail. I worked with her once or twice before she was inducted onto the Council.” Cole reminisced, looking a little sour. “Separ and Zaleos I know nothing about, and Leraikhe, of course, you know already. Valefar… I think he’s an assassin? Or a thief? I’m not sure. Zagan is on the High Council, and he’s an alchemist with a focus on changing the nature of _people_ , rather than things.”

“Lovely.” Phoebe drawled sarcastically.

Eventually, Zankou showed up in their headquarters again, looking insufferably smug. “Hello again.” He greeted. Phoebe looked up from the Source vanquishing spell she’d been pouring over and making no headway on, and felt a little anticipation brighten her mood. “I’m about to have my first war council, and I thought you three ought to be there.”

Phoebe was more than happy to abandon her spellwork, and got up at once, only pausing to grab a few extra weapons, since she refused to leave their headquarters without them. Leo took a moment to finish mixing whatever concoction he was creating, and only once he had finally joined them did Cole put down his book – on magical torture methods – and came over to wrap an arm around Phoebe’s shoulders. Zankou grabbed hold of Leo and Phoebe’s arms, and flamed out, dragging them with him.

They reappeared in a small antechamber, a domed cave with a floor so smooth it was almost reflective. There didn’t appear to be any way in or out, until Zankou waved a hand over a patch of wall, and it dissolved, revealing a large cave with a sandy floor and several tunnels branching off it. “It took me forever to get it all set up how I wanted it.” Zankou admitted. “A lot of these tunnels weren’t here to start with, but with all the different types of demon I’ve been recruiting, I really needed separate halls to put them in, or my army would take itself out before we ever got a shot at the Source.”

This little ramble took them across the large hall, where they saw a few demons heading off on their own little missions, and one or two more sticking their heads out of tunnels to watch them pass. They went down one of the smaller tunnels themselves, which curled in on itself as it lead downwards, until it opened out into a room of dark grey stone lit with numerous low-slung braziers full of fire scattered in a loose circle around a large stone table with ten tall-backed stone chairs like small thrones, four along each side and one at either end. Five of the seats had already been filled, and Phoebe was surprised to find she recognised one of the occupants.

“Celaeno.” She blurted out

“Ah, you know each other?” Zankou asked, glancing between them like he wasn’t sure whether to get out of the line of fire and find some popcorn, or try to diffuse the situation.

“My patron sends her greetings, and her congratulations.” Celaeno said to Phoebe, although she looked like she wasn’t entirely happy about having to say it.

Phoebe couldn’t help but smile a little bit in amusement, both at the strange feeling that she had a demonic pen-pal, and the long-suffering annoyance on Celaeno’s face. “Well, if you don’t mind carrying the message, I return the greetings, and send my thanks, for the congratulations, and the help.” Celaeno nodded crisply, and turned her eyes back to the middle of the table.

She was, Phoebe finally noticed, seated between two other demons, both male and fairly ordinary looking, one old enough to have grey in his hair and the other looking like he just stepped out of hollywood, but opposite her was a demon wearing a frankly terrifying mask that Phoebe thought looked kind of Aztec, all angles and bright colours, with eyes like black holes. On the Aztec demon’s far side, next to the head of the table was a stunningly beautiful woman who looked exactly the way Phoebe had always imagined Snow White. Ebony black hair, snow white skin, and lips and satin backless dress in vivid, vibrant red.

She was distracted from her examination of the demons when Zankou stretched out an arm to gesture her towards the chair at the near end of the table. She took it, and Cole immediately claimed the seat to her right, between her and the movie star demon, while Leo, after glancing at them both uncertainly, took the chair to her left, which did at least leave him with an empty seat between him and the Aztec demon, but he clearly still felt a little awkward about it.

Zankou strode around the table to the chair at the far end, but he didn’t sit. “Welcome.” He said, spreading his arms wide for a moment. “For those of you who don’t know each other, may I introduce;” He paused, and gestured directly down the table to Phoebe. “Phoebe Halliwell, the Last Charmed One.” This caused a ripple around the table, as all five of the demons turned to stare at her. Phoebe set her mouth in a stubborn line, stayed exactly where her first casual slouch had placed her, ignoring the urge to straighten and lift her chin, and refused to be intimidated. It made her feel uncomfortably like a teenager again. “Her lover, Belthazor, also known as Cole Turner.” Zankou continued, after a moment to let the shocked silence settle, gesturing to Cole, and then moving on to Leo. “And her whitelighter, Leo Wyatt.”

“A whitelighter?” The old demon asked incredulously.

“You _have_ been out of touch, haven’t you?” The movie star demon drawled, lips pulling into something that wasn’t quite a sneer, and wasn’t quite a smirk, but had gotten caught somewhere in between, and managed to make him look like a condescending jackass. The old demon glared at him, and reached for a dark wooden staff propped beside his chair.

“Enough.” Zankou interrupted implacably. “We’re not here to fight amongst ourselves. We’re here with a common goal, and we should focus on that.” He chided. The old demon reluctantly set his staff back down again, and the movie star demon crossed his arms in a petulant huff. “As I was saying.” Zankou went on once it was clear the two of them were done bickering. Phoebe was honestly a little impressed by how swiftly he’d shut down that rivalry. “Phoebe, Cole, Leo, may I introduce to _you_ ;” He gestured first to the Snow White demon at his right hand. “Queen Carmilla of the Vampires.”

Not a demon then, Phoebe realised, taking another look at Carmilla, who smiled in greeting. She was startled out of her studying the first vampire she’d ever met by Cole abruptly sitting up straight. “Queen Carmilla?” He asked.

The vampire Queen turned her attention to Cole. “Yes. I’ve heard good things of you from my kin, Belthazor.” She informed him, in a voice that made Phoebe think of smokey, dimly-lit cabarets.

“Wh- _How_ are you _here_?!” Cole demanded, leaning forward intently.

Queen Carmilla stared at him, face blank with confusion. “I… don’t understand what you mean?”

Cole frowned at her. “I find it hard to believe that _you_ , of all vampires, would have just happened to be in the Underworld when the Source sealed it, after your banishment, so how did you get _in_?” He pressed, and Phoebe finally understood what he was asking. Her whole body seemed to jolt with the realisation, and she added her own intent stare to Cole’s, waiting for an answer.

Carmilla shrugged elegantly. “I noticed nothing when I flew in.” She informed them. “And my subjects have reported nothing amiss flying out. I am here because Zankou sent me a message offering me amnesty in return for overthrowing the demon who dared to oust me from my nest. It was an offer I could not refuse.”

Phoebe turned her glare on Zankou. “You know a way past the seal?!” She demanded.

Zankou held his hands up. “No, I don’t.” He stated firmly. “I hunted down one of the few vampiric diplomats in the Underworld attempting to take advantage of the current chaos, and asked him if he could get in touch with his Queen. I wasn’t actually _expecting_ Queen Carmilla and her entire nest to show up, but I was putting feelers out everywhere, to see who bit.”

“So, wait… are vampires somehow immune to this seal?” Leo inquired.

“Immune is perhaps not the right word.” The old demon interjected thoughtfully. “The ward is an old, powerful piece of wizardry, and it is designed, in essence, to _reflect_ that which attempts to cross it. Vampires _have_ no reflection, for they have no substance on the astral planes, and so there is nothing for the ward to reflect when they make the crossing.”

“I barely understood that, but all I really need to know is that you can cross the seal.” Phoebe announced to Carmilla, who nodded to confirm. “I don’t know if- Would it be impertinent to ask for a favour?” She inquired, not wanting to offend anybody, but a little too desperate to care.

“We can’t carry passengers.” Carmilla said at once. “But I could turn you, if you wish to cross back into the mortal world.”

Phoebe opened her mouth to say no, and paused, considering it. “Let me think about that.” She stalled, and Carmilla’s eyes gleamed hungrily. “But that wasn’t the favour I wanted to ask. No, I just… I want to let my dad know I’m not dead. I can write a letter, if one of your, um, subjects? Wouldn’t mind delivering it?” She requested.

Carmilla cocked her head in a disturbingly bird-like gesture to consider Phoebe. “A favour given means a favour owed.” She warned. Phoebe didn’t even hesitate to nod. “Then yes, mortal, we can deliver your letter for you.”

Phoebe wilted in her chair. “ _Thank you_.” She breathed in relief.

“Can I finish the introductions, now?” Zankou asked. Phoebe flapped a lazy hand at him to indicate she was paying attention and he could go on, in exactly the same moment that Carmilla gave a regal gesture of handing the stage over to someone else. Zankou looked amused yet exasperated. “This is Chief Wizard Salgorim.” He indicated the old demon. Or rather, wizard, apparently. He was old and weather-beaten, with dark skin and steel grey hair cropped close, and a short grey beard. He was wearing voluminous dark robes that pooled about his seated form and made him seem a lot bigger than Phoebe suspected he actually was. “You’ve already met Celaeno, leader of the Harpies.” Zankou went on, gesturing to her, and then to the Aztec demon opposite her. “And this is Tlexictli, Emperor of the Aztec Masks.”

Phoebe winced, knowing it was going to be a disaster if she tried to pronounce that name. And she didn’t actually _want_ to offend anybody on this little war council right off the bat. She needed their help, after all. The Aztec demon turned its head in a jerky, twitchy motion that sent Phoebe right down the road to uncanny valley. She repressed a shudder. Looking at the mask dead on, it became clear it was meant to be a skull and she thought she caught a gleam of eyes in the depths of the eye holes, but she couldn’t be sure. It was mostly naked, save a narrow wrap around its hips, but Phoebe didn’t want to look too closely at its skin, because it was covered in strange marks almost like tattoos, or maybe a bit like scars, that seemed to move in her peripheral vision.

“You may call me Lex.” The Aztec demon stated simply.

Phoebe blinked, entirely taken aback by how _normal_ it sounded. Not identifiably male or female, but still very much like a normal person’s voice. “Thank you.” She managed. Lex the Aztec demon stuttered a nod, then twitched its head to face forwards once more.

“And lastly,” Zankou went on blandly, with a gesture to the movie star demon sitting next to Cole. He was, of course, very handsome, with tousled blonde-brown hair and a chiselled jaw and perfectly straight nose. “Edom, leader of the Mercury demons.”

“Pleasure.” Edom replied, in a sardonic tone that made it quite clear he wasn’t impressed by any of them at all. “Now that everyone’s been introduced, can we get _on_ with this?”

“Of course.” Zankou confirmed, finally taking his own seat. “Most of you will be aware by now that our plan is to take the Source out at the knees by removing his Council from play.” He began, and Phoebe saw all the demons nodding to themselves. “We may be able to get two at once sometimes, but going after them one at a time reduces the risk to our own forces.”

“You mentioned before that we might not have to kill all of them. Just five or so.” Phoebe interjected. Zankou looked a little surprised, but nodded. “Which five were you thinking of?” She challenged, thinking of the list sitting in her jacket pocket.

“Well, the five that are left of the High Council would be easiest.” Zankou mused.

“Except the Seer.” Phoebe pointed out.

Zankou pulled a face. “You may have a point.” He acknowledged, eyeing her like he was considering how she knew that. Then his eyes flicked to Cole, and he visibly packed the suspicion away to continue the conversation. “There _are_ ways to shield yourself from her sight, but she’s equally aware it can be done, and at least when I knew her she was never so foolish as to let her guard down because she expected to see an attack coming.”

“So who would you say would be easiest to get to on the Infernal Council?” Phoebe asked.

Zankou shrugged. “I’ve been out of touch for a long time.” He reminded her.

“That hasn’t stopped you knowing everything else.” Phoebe retorted.

That made Zankou smile like she’d just paid him a compliment. “I could sense _some_ things from my prison, but there was a whole Underworld to observe, and the Council do mostly spend their time in places warded _against_ external observation.” He explained.

“I’d say Zaleos.” Edom interected, looking mightily bored by the back and forth going on between Zankou and Phoebe. “Bael and Astaroth would be a stupid risk to take, if we don’t need to. Paimon is most often with the Source, and Separ is an assassin. He will know what tricks we might use against him. Zaleos has always been the softest of them, and the least prepared to face conflict.”

“Separ is arrogant, he won’t expect anyone to try and assassinate _him_.” Lex pointed out, shifting awkwardly in its seat. “Zaleos knows he is the weakest of them, he will be on guard.”

“Any demon that _didn’t_ expect attempts on his life wouldn’t last a day on the Infernal Council.” Edom countered at once, giving Lex an arch, supercilious look. Phoebe was really starting to get tired of the sheer arrogance of pretty much every demon she’d ever met, except the minions. It was as if they only had the two settings; domineering arrogance or cringing servitude. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe past the longing to be back in the mortal world, to be around _normal people_ who weren’t caught up in this creepy power-play the demons all seemed to be engaged in.

“They _do_ have a measure of protection due to their position.” Celaeno countered, but then she grimaced. “But you’re right. Separ _has_ to know that someone’s going to try and kill him sooner or later. I know he has some strong personal protections. An amulet, if I’m not much mistaken, but I don’t know anything about how his lair is protected.”

“Amulets only need a sufficiently strong demon to be bypassed.” Cole pointed out.

“Do you think you could get through it?” Phoebe asked him.

Cole shrugged. “Probably, but it would take a while, and that would give him a chance to attack _me_. I’d need someone else to be holding him still if I was going to survive the attempt.” He explained, and Phoebe considered that.

“I might be able to come up with a spell for that?” She offered. “But I’d have to be careful how to word it. Just pitting my magic against his wouldn’t end well for me.”

“Really?” Edom asked incredulously. “But you’re a Charmed One.”

Phoebe gave him a glare that was possibly more fierce than he deserved. He jerked backwards, wide-eyed in alarm. “Yes, and if I _had_ my sisters, we could probably vanquish him without your damned help, but I don’t, because the Source _killed them_ , which is the _only damned reason_ I’m even down here planning this in the fucking first place!”

Cole reached over and put a hand over hers. Phoebe turned her hand over and squeezed back, gripping hard to try and vent her sudden rage without exploding all over allies they really kind of needed. Edom still looked bewildered, and kind of offended, which wasn’t helping her temper. “You have to remember she’s human, Edom.” Zankou interjected, mild and a bit amused. Phoebe shot him a glare that seemed to bounce right off him. “Best not to mention her sisters, if you can help it. She’s still… grieving.” He pronounced the word like it was foreign to him, and Phoebe figured it probably was.

“Oh.” Edom said, offence turning to disgusted pity in a heartbeat. He even went so far as to edge his chair away from her end of the table, as though grief might be contagious. “Even so. You’re a powerful witch. Are you sure there isn’t some… method your people use to match upper level demons?”

Phoebe opened her mouth, and paused, then shook her head. “No. We only ever used Power of Three spells or a vanquishing potion with the demon’s blood in. And getting Separ’s blood has exactly the same problem as killing him, so we might as well be efficient, and use a power more readily to hand to off him, instead of breaking through all his protections twice.”

“An immobilising spell and Cole are our answer to the amulet, but we do need to discover what his other protections are.” Zankou stated. “Celaeno, you’re the one with connections in high places. Can I ask you to investigate that?” Celaeno nodded. “Thank you. Do you have any intel on any of the members of the High Council?” He questioned.

Celaeno considered her answer for a moment before she began laying out details like where they all slept and spent most of their time, and the defences on said places. Phoebe wasn’t surprised to learn that Celaeno claimed not to have much knowledge of Kimaris’s defences, given that they’d already figured Astaroth favoured her. But she outlined Leraikhe’s tendancy to use brute demons as bodyguards, which made Lex chuckle in a _disturbing_ fashion and say that that would be no problem at all, and her passion for cursed and poisoned weaponry. Celaeno went on to detail Valefar’s use of blood wards, which she suspected her sisters could bypass, since _he_ didn’t have a white witch on hand to cause a cave in on their heads, and then Zagan’s easily accessible alchemy workshop, where he spent most of his time, but that often held very unstable and dangerous concoctions.

“Then we start with Leraikhe.” Zankou decided. “I imagine Phoebe and her companions will want in on this-” He glanced up with a questioning expression, so Phoebe nodded firmly. “-and since they’ve already penetrated Leraikhe’s defences once before, they’ll undoubtedly be useful. Tlexictli, if you could send two or three of your people, and Salgorim, one of yours. That should cover what we know of her capabilities.”

Lex and Salgorim both nodded, one twitchily, the other ponderously. “I shall send Terym.” Salgorim announced. “He’s the best still living at countering curses.”

“Excellent. I would suggest putting this plan into action as soon as this meeting is over, unless anyone has any better ideas?” Zankou prompted. When no one protested, he smiled in satisfaction. “Queen Carmilla, if your people wouldn’t mind taking a look around, seeing what they might be able to overhear in their smaller forms, that would be helpful.”

“This we can do.” Carmilla agreed.

Zankou turned finally to Edom. “I also have some thoughts about distractions your people might be able to help with. You’re skilled conjurers, are you not?” When Edom nodded, Zankou’s smirk became a grin. “There’s no better way to cause havoc than a well placed conjuration. It’s always astounded me how often people make the mistake of assuming they’re just illusions.” The two demons shared a moment of incredulous mirth, but then Zankou returned his attention back to the rest of the table. “But we can discuss that later. I believe that’s everything for now.”

The others all began to stand, so Phoebe did too. “Do you need to get anything before we do this?” Cole asked her, standing and coming to her side. Phoebe checked her supply of knives and potions, and shook her head. She always wore her one remaining glove, her greaves, and her fire-proofing amulet, so they’d been on her when she came here, and she automatically filled her pockets with potions any time she had to go somewhere.

Leo cleared his throat, and Phoebe looked up to see that while Zankou had drawn Edom off with an arm around his shoulders, and Celaeno had vanished, the remaining three were approaching them. Phoebe tried not to watch the way Lex sort of _skittered_ and lurched instead of walking like a normal person, because it made her eyes hurt and set off primordial alarm bells in her lizard brain. “Where should I send my people to meet you for this attack?” Lex asked, and once again, Phoebe found herself stalling on the way its voice was so damn human when the rest of it was, well, _not_.

“Here?” Phoebe suggested.

Lex nodded, and then seemed to melt into its own tattoos, becoming indistinct behind the writhing patterns that then dissipated like fog in sunlight. “I shall send Terym here once he is prepared.” Salgorim declared, making Phoebe startle. “It may take some time, but we shall endeavour to hurry.” He added, and banged his staff on the floor. A whirling vortex seemed to open up in midair and carry him away, collapsing behind him as if it had never existed at all.

Deciding that she just wasn’t going to deal with how disturbing these people were, Phoebe turned to the last of the ones that had wanted her attention. Queen Carmilla looked no less intimidatingly flawless up close, but at least the heebie-jeebies coming off her were _subtle_ , unlike with Lex. “Can I help you? Uh… your majesty?” Phoebe guessed awkwardly.

“I thought, perhaps, you might like to visit my nest; consider my proposal, write your letter, meet your courier?” Carmilla offered.

Phoebe thought she ought to protest. She was going to try and attack one of the High Council in a minute, and she shouldn’t delay that. But then she tossed that thought out the window. These people could damn well wait for her to write one measly letter so that her dad could stop mourning a daughter who wasn’t dead. “Okay. Thank you.” She said.

Without another word, Carmilla glided away, and Phoebe snagged Leo and Cole by the arms to drag them with her as she followed. Carmilla led them back through the large thoroughfare, and into a set of caves draped with red and white silks and satins, filled with plush, gilt furniture, and multitudes of unfairly pretty people both male and female, all wearing various shades of red. After a few soft words from Carmilla to said people, Phoebe was ushered to a room that was decked out like a study straight out of some regency bodice-ripper novel. Leo got cajoled into wandering off somewhere, Phoebe thought she heard mention of a hot bath, which nearly tempted her to abandon her letter and follow, but Cole refused to be led off elsewhere, even when the vampires upped the ante by adding a massage to the offer. Instead, he set to perusing the books while Phoebe sat at the desk and penned her letter.

It was hard, figuring out what to write. She had no idea what had happened in the last few months, although she could make a few guesses. She didn’t know what her father was doing, or where he was, or anything. She could only tell him about herself, and there was so much she _didn’t_ want to say. That she was alive? Yes. That she was well? It was a lie, but yes. That she was trapped in the Underworld? She had to at least try to explain. But her attempt to deal with the Source that had gotten Prue and Piper killed? She couldn’t even begin to explain that. Her own vendetta against the Source for his treachery? Well, she wanted to explain part of it, but she didn’t want to worry him. He’d always worried so much about them being witches, and it turned out he was right.

She was also intently aware of time slipping by, which was bizarre after spending so long in such a timeless state, only being able to mark the passing of time once every six or seven weeks. She was about to go kill another of the Source’s Council, was possibly delaying that fight just to write this letter, and she was trying to reassure her father that she wasn’t dead and wouldn’t be dying any time soon. It felt terribly contradictory, and a bit unfair.

She was distracted half way through when a vampire in a neat, almost-black suit and bright crimson shirt walked in, and greeted Cole with a familiar “Hello again, Belthazor. Sorry, Cole.”

“Rowan. You’re looking well.” Cole replied, flipping the book in his hand shut casually.

The vampire – Rowan – turned to smile in greeting at Phoebe. “And Miss Halliwell.”

“Hi.” Phoebe replied. Rowan didn’t quite ignore her after that, but he made a very obvious attempt to draw Cole into a corner of the room where they wouldn’t disturb her, which Phoebe took as a hint that she really ought to focus on her letter. She still caught snatches of conversation from the two of them as she finished off the letter, folded it, and tucked it inside an envelope she’d found in one of the drawers and written ‘Victor Bennett’ on. An old fashioned envelope with no lick-and-stick seal on the edge of the flap. Phoebe stared helplessly at the flap of paper waving tauntingly in the air.

“Ah, here.” Rowan said, sounding amused as he materialised over Phoebe’s shoulder. He pretended to be oblivious to Phoebe jumping out of her skin as he leaned forwards to pluck up a stick of blood red wax from a dish on the side of the desk and hold it in front of her face. “To seal the envelope.” He added, when Phoebe just sat there and stared at it, trying to regain her composure.

Cole, at least, made some noise as he strode over. One hand settled on Phoebe’s shoulder, neatly insinuating a barrier between her and Rowan without making it too obvious what he was doing, while the other took the stick of wax off Rowan a little more sharply than was perhaps necessary. “Thank you.” Cole said, in a polite tone that had teeth. Rowan held up his hands in mock surrender and backed away a few paces, tucking his hands behind his back. “Would you like me to…?” Cole offered.

“No. Gimme.” Phoebe ordered, snatching the wax off him. Not that she’d ever sealed a letter this way before, but there was a child in her that thrilled at the opportunity. It was just so elegant and fancy. She accepted the matchbox Cole offered her, and set about lighting the wax and letting it drip onto the point of the flap. “Don’t I need a stamp?” She asked when she finally blew the candle out.

“Just touch it once it’s cool.” Rowan interjected, so Phoebe waited.

Once the wax had hardened, she reached out and tapped her finger against it. Instantly, the wax reformed itself. The shape of a triquetra imprinted itself into blood red wax, with detail enough to make it look interwoven, interlocking with the circle that threaded through the three points. All the frivolous delight at sealing a letter with wax died. The wax was clearly reacting to her specific touch, because that was _her_ symbol. Only it wasn’t. It was _their_ symbol. It was meant for _three_. But there wasn’t a _them_ anymore. She was alone, and yet still, magic wax felt her touch and recognised _one of three_ , like she was still a part of something more. It was a knife to the heart.

Phoebe pressed a hand hard over her mouth to keep from screaming. Distantly, she heard Rowan ask “Is something wrong?” in a distressed tone of voice.

“Nothing you can fix.” Cole replied shortly, and then his arms were around her, pulling her up out of the chair and against his chest. He didn’t say anything else, didn’t offer any platitudes or false comfort, and it was the gratitude that finally made the tears fall. She pressed her forehead against his shoulder and _hated_ the Source with every fibre in her being.

When she finally managed to pull herself together, she looked up and found Rowan hovering awkwardly several paces away with her letter in his hands. When he realised she was looking, he offered her an attempt at a gentle, supportive smile and a short bow. “I’ll do my best to see this letter to where it’s meant to go.” He promised.

“I’m sorry I can’t tell you where he might be.” Phoebe offered in reply.

Rowan’s smile widened, becoming more easy and confident. “I do know my way around the mortal world, Miss Halliwell.” He assured her. “And if all else fails, I can probably track him by the blood you share.” He added, which was far more ominous, but oddly no less reassuring for it.

“Thank you.” Phoebe said.

Rowan bowed to her again, offered Cole a nod, and then Phoebe blinked and somehow missed the transformation from man to bat. The little creature flapped around the room, and then seemed to flutter _through_ the air and out of sight. Phoebe stared at the spot he’d vanished for a long moment, feeling both nervous and relieved. “Phoebe?” Cole prompted quietly.

Phoebe swallowed, and pushed the worry aside. “Lets go kill this demon.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have now, officially, finished the final chapter, and just in time =D The chapter count may go up by one if I manage to get an epilogue done, but I may not, so for now that total chapter count is 22

When they returned to the meeting chamber, there were three demons waiting for them, two of the Aztec Mask demons, and a wizard in dark green robes. “Are we ready to go?” Phoebe asked as she approached. The wizard looked a little startled, but nodded. The two Mask demons did, too, but Phoebe tried not to watch that display.

“Can you track my shimmer?” Cole asked, taking his cue from Phoebe and getting straight down to business. The Mask demons laughed at the question, and the wizard nodded again, so Cole laid one hand on Phoebe’s shoulder and the other on Leo’s, and took them off to Leraikhe’s lair.

Battle erupted around them almost before they’d finished materialising. A fire-ball dissipated against the protection of Phoebe’s amulet, Belthazor roared and charged the demon that had thrown it, and a dozen brute demons closed in on Phoebe and Leo. They put their backs to each other and raised their weapons barely in time to counter the first attacks. Phoebe ducked the flying fist and lashed out with an athame, while her other hand snatched up and hurled one of her potions. The brute demon in front of her jerked backwards to avoid the slash, and the ones behind it went flying in the explosion, but were on their feet again a moment after they hit the floor.

An angry, clicking, chittering screech echoed through the tunnel, and Phoebe recoiled as an Aztec Mask demon leapt on the brute demon like a jumping spider. The brute demon tried to grab it and throw it, but instead of gripping, his hands disappeared into the Mask demon’s body. The chittering became a warbling, unnerving laugh, as the Mask demon’s body seemed to unfurl, expand into extra limbs and writhing tentacles of shadow that grasped for the brute demon. He began to thrash and howl, which only seemed to encourage the creeping shadows, until most of his body had disappeared, and then finally his head vanished into the Mask demon’s chest as the shadows curled back and in and resettled as those not-quite stationary tattoo-scars covering the demon’s body.

Then it was lunging off, lurching for the next brute demon stupid enough to get too close. Phoebe watched for a moment, then whipped around to try and see what was going on. The tunnel was broad and surprisingly well lit for the underworld, and it was full of demons, both the brute demons they’d been expecting and others. Belthazor was cutting them down like flies, and Leo was hacking his way through them with a hard look on his face, and the wizard was whirling his staff like a baton, using it as a club as often as he used it to shoot blasts of energy, but there were still more demons pouring out of a door only a few yards away. It had to be the door leading to Leraikhe’s lair, since that was where they’d been aiming, but there was no reason for _so many_ demons to have been in there, unless…

“They knew we were coming.” Leo said to her, voice hard.

“I figured.” Phoebe agreed, slashing a demon’s throat, and then kicking his burning body back into another one coming up behind him. Another fire-ball splashed into nothingness against her clothes and her amulet warmed as it absorbed and dissipated the flames, and Phoebe lobbed a potion in the direction it had come from, and then yanked Leo backwards, out of the path of a crossbow bolt. He returned the favour a moment later by shoving her down and raising his sword just in time to intercept the other sword that had been about to take Phoebe’s head off.

There was a clash of metal, and then a burst of power that flung Phoebe and Leo into the air, only to come crashing down on top of a cluster of yet more demons. Phoebe stabbed one of them before even attempting to get up, and punched the one that tried to grab her with her gloved hand. It yelped, convulsing, and recoiled. There was barely any time to think, but Phoebe tried anyway. They were going to get overwhelmed, so they ought to leave, but the idea of retreating on their _very first_ attempt to start whittling away the Source’s protections felt wrong.

A spell began to piece itself together in Phoebe’s mind as she finally rolled back to her feet and shocked a brute demon long enough for one of the Mask demons to pounce. She wasn’t sure if it would work, she’d need to get Leraikhe’s name right, and she hadn’t managed it yet, but she hadn’t really been _trying_. She spun under a flail that had been whipped at her head, and kicked the demon wielding it into the air. He yelped, flailed, and got hit by an energy-ball. Phoebe followed its trajectory, and saw Belthazor grabbing another demon and throwing him into three of his fellows, before spraying the tangle of limbs with energy-balls.

Phoebe backed away from the melee, trying to get enough space to give herself a few seconds to actually say her spell, but she was harried every step. She only managed when she backed far enough to duck behind the wizard. She took a breath, closed her eyes for half a second, and made _sure_ she was saying it right. “ _Leraikhe’s who I seek to find, leave her nothing to hide behind._ ” Phoebe chanted.

An invisible wind swept through the battle, knocking demons left and right. A path opened up before Phoebe, leading through the doors and into the cavern beyond. The only demon within the cavern who wasn’t knocked to the ground by the wind was a tall woman with dark hair cropped short, wearing a leather waistcoat and trousers with a dark green sash around her hips. In her hands was a massive, spiky black longbow, and after a moment of surprise, she whipped it up and aimed directly at Phoebe. As she drew the string back, black energy was drawn out of the air around her hand and crackled to life as a bolt of dark lightning as her thumb touched her cheek.

“Oh, shit.” Phoebe swore, and dove out of the way.

There was boom like thunder, and Phoebe whipped around to look the moment she could. What she saw was the wizard, Terym, she remembered his name was, holding his staff before him to maintain a swirling blue shield that was flickering with black lightning like cracks in glass. He staggered backwards, and the shield shattered. There was barely a second between the shield going down and the next lightning arrow hitting the wizard square in the chest. There was another crack of thunder, and the wizard went flying, exploding in mid-air.

“You _dare_ to try and ambush me _twice_ , witch?!” Leraikhe called, drawing her bow a third time. Phoebe stared down that black shaft, saw the army of demons getting to their feet again in her peripheral vision, and bared her teeth in frustrated rage. “Did you think I wouldn’t be _ready for you_ this time?!”

With that, she released. Phoebe threw herself to the other side of the tunnel, but the bolt of lightning swerved to follow her. Sudden fear grabbed Phoebe in icy claws, and desperation drove her to the nearest cover she could find, a knot of demons. They tried to scramble out of her way, but Phoebe grabbed one, twisted his arm, and ducked down behind him just as the lightning bolt hit. The demon screamed and exploded, leaving only his crossbow to clatter to the floor.

Phoebe snatched it up and spun around to fire before she could think twice about what she was doing. She squeezed the trigger in the same moment that she saw the flash of dark lightning leaving the great bow in Leraikhe’s hand. She wanted to stand and watch, to see if her own attack hit home, but she knew she couldn’t. She needed somewhere to hide, but all the demons around her had scattered, wary of being used as a shield like the last one.

Then Belthazor was there, catching her in one great arm and dragging her through a heat haze into their hidden lair.

Phoebe gave a wordless shout of frustration, hurled the crossbow in her hand to the ground, and then yelled “Leo!” to let him know where they were. Nothing happened for long enough for Phoebe’s breath to catch, but then Leo appeared in a swirl of white lights. “What took you so long?!” Phoebe demanded, her worry only feeding her anger.

“I had to make sure the Mask demons got out of there.” Leo replied shortly. “We already got one ally killed today, I didn’t think adding any more to the tally would be a good idea.”

Phoebe deflated, thoroughly chastised. “Oh.” She said in a small voice. She cleared her throat. “Um, sorry.” She managed to get out.

Leo just shook his head in dismissal. “That went exactly nothing like the plan.” He sighed, pointedly changing the subject. Phoebe gritted her teeth, because he was right, and she hated it. She’d thought they were finally getting somewhere, and instead, everything had gone wrong the moment they started.

“She knew we were coming.” Belthazor rumbled, sounding deeply displeased.

Phoebe’s eyes narrowed, not liking the way he’d said that. “Do you think someone warned her?” She asked sharply.

“Maybe.” Belthazor replied. Then he sighed, and his form collapsed back down into Cole, and he shrugged. “Or maybe she has access to a seer or oracle. Or maybe she was just paranoid after you robbed her. I don’t know. It just seems like too much of a coincidence that she was so well prepared.”

Phoebe stared at him, his words giving her an idea. Wordlessly, she ducked down and picked up the crossbow she’d stolen, and rose back to her full height while studying it. It was nothing like a darklighter’s weapon. It looked like someone had stuck a ram’s skull on a stick and strung a string between the tips of the horns. When Phoebe winched the string back, a bolt thunked into existence. Phoebe plucked it out of its groove, and studied the barbed tip.

“Phoebe?” Cole asked.

“If _they_ can know in advance when to strike, why can’t we?” Phoebe asked, but she didn’t wait for an answer before closing her eyes and focusing, calling on her power. She saw a glimpse of the battle she’d just left, and stubbornly pressed on, demanded more. Her vision wobbled, wavered, and changed. She could tell, just from the feel of the vision, that it was from the present, which wasn’t exactly what she’d been aiming for, but it was close enough.

She could see a large room, a cave, she thought, but it was hard to tell because the floor was made of large flagstones and every inch of the walls was covered in shelves. The shelves were laden with bottles of strange potions and jars of ingredients, pouches of herbs and crystals. There were beakers stacked in tottering piles, goblets stored in ranks like soldiers, bags of corks, bundles of wands and stirring sticks and twigs of various woods. There were bars of ingots, piles of tiny bones, pots and trays of creeping glowing fungi, all in between towers of books and pyramids of scrolls. On the several tables in the middle of the room, arranged between partitions of yet more shelves were cauldrons and tangled arrangements of tubes and flasks, strange contraptions belching smoke or spitting sparks.

Sitting on the bench at one of the tables was Leraikhe, her back to the table with her elbows braced on what space she could find between the instruments piled there haphazardly. At her side was a handsome dark skinned man in a rust-coloured robe, his focus on the barbed bolt buried in the meat of her shoulder up to the fletching. All around the wound, Leraikhe’s skin was turning an ugly mottled grey, and she was holding her arm gingerly, teeth bared as the other demon worked on it.

“I should have been better prepared!” Leraikhe cursed, banging her fist on the table.

“Mm.” The man responded.

“It’s a pity anti-teleporting wards take so damn long to set up. I’m so sick of her hit-and-run tactics. She never holds still long enough for anyone to _get her_.” Leraikhe continued furiously. “She just pops up, kills a few of us, and _vanishes_. No one can find her since Astaroth lost the whitelighter’s blood.”

“Careful.” The man warned absently, turning away from his work on her shoulder to pick up a sponge dripping with phosphorescent liquid that he dabbed around the edges of the bolt. “Astaroth’s still touchy about that particular… incident.”

“As she should be!” Leraikhe cried, shifting as if she wanted to gesture with her injured arm. Then she winced and froze. “Ow.”

“Don’t _move_.” The man huffed.

“I’m trying. But it’s so frustrating. The witch doesn’t even know better than to let her _whitelighter_ go handing out his blood, and she’s still wiping us out! It’s getting ridiculous. I want her _head_.”

“Join the queue.” The man remarked, and then abruptly yanked the bolt out of her shoulder. Leraikhe screamed, her other hand leaping up to the sluggishly bleeding wound. “Oh, don’t be a baby.” The man chided, picking up a jar of some thick yellowish paste. He batted Leraikhe’s hand away and started dabbing the paste on the wound.

“Oh, go kiss a Mask demon, Zagan.” Leirakhe huffed, dropping her hand to her lap. “And that’s another thing! How the hell did a mortal witch convince a bunch of _Aztec Mask demons_ to help her? They’re _animals_ for hellfire’s sake. They _hunt_ mortals, and mortals _know that_.”

“Very vexing.” Zagan murmured, and the patronising irony in his voice seemed to go right over Leraikhe’s head.

“I’m just glad the Source’s Oracle managed to predict this one. I don’t know why it was different this time, but I _nearly_ managed to kill her, and if there’s a _next time…_ ” Leraikhe trailed off, a nasty glint in her eye as she contemplated what she’d do next time she fought Phoebe.

“Mmhm.” Zagan hummed into the silence.

Leraikhe shot him a narrow-eyed look, and then visibly geared up for another rant, but the premonition wobbled before she could get started and Phoebe lost her grip on it. She crashed back into her own body violently, and was only saved from falling by Cole’s swift reflexes. He caught her by the arm, and reeled her back upright, just as Leo’s hand settled on her shoulder to steady her. Phoebe flashed them both a smile.

“Are you alright?” Leo checked.

“What did you see?” Cole asked in the same moment.

“Fine.” Phoebe assured Leo, but she didn’t have time to waste on reassuring him any more. “Do you know where Zagan’s workshop is?” She asked Cole urgently. He nodded, not asking any unnecessary questions. “Then let’s go. Now. I’m not letting either of them get away this time.”

“Okay.” He agreed, and glanced to Leo.

“Do we want to go collect the Mask demons?” Leo asked, glancing between them.

Phoebe considered, but only for a moment. They needed help. The three of them were not equipped to kill _two_ members of the High Council without help. “Yes.” Phoebe decided. Before she’d even finished saying the word, Leo had orbed the three of them back into the entrance cave of Zankou’s lair. The Mask demons were waiting just beyond, talking with Lex and Zankou, probably about the mission. Phoebe barged right into the middle of their conversation and talked over Lex without a care for how disrespectful she might be being. “Leraikhe and Zagan are alone and unprotected _right now_.” She informed them. “Who’s coming with us?”

The two Mask demons looked to Lex, who nodded jerkily. They nodded as well. “Could be fun.” Zankou remarked easily. “Lead on. We’ll be right behind you.”

Phoebe just grabbed hold of Cole, and let him take them directly into the workshop from her vision. Only they were just a little too late. Zagan was the only one there, head bent as he packed up his supplies, and Leraikhe was nowhere to be seen. Phoebe cursed as Zagan’s head snapped up, and fired a crossbow bolt at him. It caught him through the hand he raised to keep it from reaching his chest, and he hissed in pain. It didn’t stop him from raising a gleaming forcefield between them with a sharp gesture from that hand. Zankou blasted it with a powerful wave of dark energy, and the shield rang like a struck gong.

The Mask demons peeled off on either side, and Leo was right behind one of them. Phoebe decided he had the right idea, so she darted after the other, ducking around workstations in an attempt to get around Zagan’s defences. As she ran, she threw a potion over the shield at the shelves behind Zagan, causing him to flinch at the rain of debris crashing down around him. Unfortunately, the shield didn’t waver, but then the Mask demons were around the edges of the shield, and shadows burst out of them in tendrils, reaching for Zagan.

From deeper within the workshop, someone called “Master Zagan?”

“Attack!” Zagan called back, and Phoebe swore. They wouldn’t have long before they were being swamped again. Zagan reached out and a small bottle shimmered into existence there, filled with white liquid. He dropped it, and the ensuing flare of light made the Mask demons shriek like nails on a chalkboard and recoil, their tattoos turned to red blisters against their skin. They hunched down and backed off, and Phoebe lunged in to take their place, Cole hot on her heels.

An energy-ball flew over her shoulder, and Zagan ducked to avoid it. He flung a strange metal disk at them, then summoned a sword into his hand and whirled to bring it up in time to deflect Leo’s swing. There was an explosion as the blades met, and then another as the metal disk hit the ground. Phoebe was flung backwards into Cole, and the two of them crashed into a shelf. Empty glass beakers and bottles rained down upon them, and shattered around them as the shelf wobbled, opening tiny gashes over every inch of exposed skin as shards of glass flew everywhere.

Phoebe ignored the glass on the floor as she grabbed hold of Cole and rolled them out of the way just before the shelf crashed to the ground. There were several muted explosions from underneath, and a corrosive liquid began to seep out from under the broken wood. Cole dragged them away from it before it could reach them, while Phoebe was preoccupied reassessing the fight. Zagan had been flung about by the explosions, too, and his shield was down, which left him engaged in a battle against Zankou while the others recovered.

The blasts of energy and fire that got flung between them, deflected or blocked or dodged, were causing a great deal of damage to the shelves and worktables, and Phoebe could see a few fires starting up, noxious smoke oozing out of cracks in glass, and strange distortions beginning to warp the air around damaged ingredients. More potions were smashing and mixing on the floor in smoking, acidic puddles. “Cole, can you knock over some more shelves?” Phoebe asked softly.

Cole’s answer was a rain of energy-balls aimed somewhat at Zagan, but mostly at the shelves behind him. One of them caught a demon that had been attracted by the sounds of battle, and he was vanquished before he could even work out what was going on. Zagan ducked the ones that came too close to him, and hurled another of those exploding disks. Phoebe and Cole scrambled to put a workstation between them and it, and Cole curled over Phoebe’s crouched form while the explosion shook the workstation.

Phoebe peeked over the top of it just in time to see Leo come up behind Zagan and drive his sword right through the demon’s back and out the other side. Zagan choked, and staggered as Leo withdrew, but didn’t die. Instead, he rounded on Leo, and summoned up a black dagger. Leo jerked backwards to avoid the first slash, and brought his sword up to block the second. A blast of dark energy caught Zagan in the side, and he cried out.

A handful of other demons arrived, but it was getting hard to see through the smoke, and their attacks were hesitant and ineffectual. Phoebe hurled herself over the top of the workstation, knocking yet more potions into the mess on the floor, and kicked two of the new demons into each other, causing them to stagger and stumble into one of the puddles. They screamed and exploded, and the muddy mix of potions suddenly turned a metallic, shiny black and began radiating heat like a furnace. “No!” Zagan shouted, sounding oddly desperate, even frightened.

Phoebe looked up just in time to see Leo stab him again, this time driving the sword through his stomach and right into the door of the wooden cabinet behind him. Zagan lurched, trying to pull himself free, but couldn’t. Leo didn’t pause, just backed away and then orbed out. A hand caught Phoebe’s arm and she almost punched Cole before she realised it was him. He shimmered them back to Zankou’s lair, where Phoebe found that Zankou and the Mask demons were already waiting. A moment later Leo appeared, his expression grim and his face covered in dirt.

The cave shuddered. Dust shook free from the ceiling. Pebbles rattled on the floor. Everyone looked around warily, but the aftershock faded, and the next was smaller, as was the one after that. They all held their breath, waiting for another one, and when it came, it nearly shook them all right off their feet, but at least the cave didn’t collapse.

After that, Zankou seemed to relax, grinning broadly and clapping Leo on the shoulder. “Well done. That was clever, pinning Zagan in place so he couldn’t escape the explosion. It might not have been the demon we were aiming for, but we got one of them. Only four more to go.”

Leo looked like he was trying very hard not to look too pleased with himself. “I lost my sword, though.” He protested, scrubbing a hand over his face like that might hide the way his lips kept twitching upwards.

“Have a crossbow?” Phoebe offered, holding the weapon out to him.

Leo stared at it for a moment, and then grimaced. “I’m not sure I…” He began, then sighed and took it. “Okay. It’s just… too much like a darklighter’s weapon.” He explained, and suddenly Phoebe understood why he was handling the weapon so gingerly.

Phoebe tried to think of something comforting to say, but mentioning that she was pretty sure the bolts were cursed not poisoned probably wouldn’t help, so she gave up, and turned to Zankou. “I have an idea how we’ll be able to get the rest, but I’m going to need to talk to Celaeno.” She announced, then hesitated. “Or Carmilla? _And_ Carmilla.” She corrected, nodding decisively.

“I’ll send a message to the harpies.” Zankou promised. “We may have to wait a day, depending on when one of their leaders can get away without being missed, but it shouldn’t be too long.” He turned to the Mask demons. “I’ve picked up an alchemist and a couple of dark priestesses, and if there’s anything they can do for your injuries, they will.” He offered.

The Mask demons both shook their heads, and Phoebe closed her eyes briefly so she didn’t have to watch. “We have our own witch-doctors.” One explained, and then they faded out, leaving only the dissipating wisps of their tattoos behind.

It didn’t take quite as much as a day for the harpies to pass on the message, Phoebe didn’t think, but of course it was always hard to tell in the underworld. Either way, she hadn’t had the chance to sleep between Leo fussing at her injuries and Zankou wanting to hear about the first confrontation with Leraikhe from all three of them. He spent the entire conversation sitting perched on a ledge, elbows braced on his knees and his fingers steepled in front of his mouth, staring intently into the middle distance. Phoebe hoped he was coming up with clever tactics for the next time they went up against Leraikhe, but he didn’t actually say, and she didn’t ask.

Then a small group of harpies came striding into the room, an escort clustered around one that looked so much like Celaeno, it wasn’t until Zankou rose to his feet with a greeting of “Aello,” that she realised it wasn’t.

“Your message said your pet witch requested our aid?” Aello asked coldly.

“ _Excuse me_?” Phoebe demanded, offended. The look Aello threw her was venomous, and it provoked every one of Phoebe’s more confrontational instincts. “That’s a bit rich, coming from one of Astaroth’s _lap-dogs_.”

“You have no idea of what you speak!” Aello fumed, drawing up to her full height to glower down at Phoebe, who was at least half a foot shorter than her.

“Doesn’t feel so good when the shoe’s on the other foot, does it?” Phoebe shot back, kicking her chin up and balling her hands into fists at her sides. She _wasn’t_ going to throw the first punch, but she wasn’t above finishing one if Aello started it. “So maybe you should hop down off your evil high horse and show me a bit of basic respect.”

“ _Respect_?!” Aello echoed, incredulous. “A white witch? You deserve no such thing!”

Phoebe rolled her eyes. “Well, look at that, bigotry _isn’t_ a uniquely human trait! I’m sure you wouldn’t understand if I tried to explain all the ways you just made yourself sound _really_ stupid, but don’t think that just because I’m supposed to be a white witch that I can’t _hand you your ass_ if I need to.”

“Ladies!” Zankou interrupted, flicking a hand up. A tiny shock-wave erupted between them, knocking them both back a couple of paces. Phoebe stumbled into Cole, who wrapped his arms around her like he was afraid she might go for Aello’s eyes, while Aello staggered into her escort, who caught her and held her up while she found her feet. “If you’re quite done with your macho-posturing?” Zankou asked, caught between disapproval and disbelief.

“I am if she is.” Phoebe replied, glaring at Aello.

“I haven’t even _started_ yet, witch.” Aello spat.

Zankou raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Do I need to send for someone else, or can you two put your claws away long enough to make a battle plan?” He asked impatiently.

 _That_ seemed to make some dent in Aello’s anger, because she gritted her teeth on her words, but managed to actually say “Very well.”

Phoebe swallowed down her indignant rage, and nodded, because killing the Source was so much more important than whatever petty grudge Aello had against white witches. Before she could ask after Carmilla, the vampire Queen arrived, sweeping into the cave and raising one elegant eyebrow at the way Phoebe and Aello were so clearly at odds and mere inches away from drawing battle lines. Phoebe didn’t give her a chance to comment. “The Source has something called an Oracle that warned him we’d be going after Leraikhe.” She announced.

“An Oracle?” Zankou echoed, looking a little dismayed. “Lovely.”

“What exactly _is_ an Oracle?” Phoebe asked, looking between him and Carmilla, because if she looked at Aello, she’d just get pissed off again.

“They’re a type of seer.” Cole informed her, causing Phoebe to tip her head back and to the side to look up at him. “They’re fairly rare, mainly because the nature of their gift makes them… prone to self destruction. They have a much stronger connection to the future than your average seer, and often find it difficult to differentiate between different possible futures without aids.”

“Aids?” Leo inquired.

“Crystal balls, most commonly. Obsidian mirrors. Still water.” Cole listed off with a shrug.

Phoebe nodded. “That might explain why she could predict our attack. It took us a while between planning it and getting around to it, so she had however long it was between it becoming a probable future and it actually happening to see it and warn for it.”

“So we need to be more spontaneous.” Zankou decided thoughtfully. “I think we can manage that…”

“We can.” Phoebe confirmed. “If I can get my hands on something that has _any_ connection to one of our targets, I can get a premonition off it of where they are right now, or will be very soon. Until I see it, we can’t make any plans, and we can randomise it further by putting all the items in a bag and I’ll pick one with my eyes closed. Then we move the moment we know where they’re going to be.”

“Ah, and that is why you need help from the harpies and the vampires.” Zankou concluded, looking distinctly pleased. “You need items that once belonged or had something to do with the Council members in order for your plan to work. Is that possible?”

“I’ll tell my people to be on the look out.” Carmilla agreed.

Aello did not look happy at all, but she nodded. “We should be able to bring you something for most of them.” She gritted out, and then turned to Carmilla and spoke to her with a much more polite tone of voice. “We should coordinate, Your Majesty.”

“Yes.” Carmilla agreed with a faint smile, and the two of them drifted away, trailing Aello’s escort. Zankou said a quick farewell, and disappeared to organise his army or whatever it was he spent his time doing, and Phoebe let Cole take them back to their headquarters, with Leo right behind them. They were all injured, and it would take a little while for the harpies and vampires to collect what Phoebe needed, so for now, she was just going to sleep. Cole and Leo had exactly the same idea, it seemed, because not a single one of them stayed awake long enough to do more than wish each other good night and collapse into their makeshift beds.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update >.o

It took several days for the harpies and the vampires to gather the items Phoebe had asked for, but in the end she had a bag of six trinkets, which was two more than she actually needed. They were all, thankfully, pretty small, and they all fit in a sack the same size as some of Phoebe’s old handbags. She weighed the bag in her hand after Zankou presented it to her, and was surprised at just how light it was, and something clinked inside like metal against metal.

“Tell Aello thank you from me.” Phoebe gritted out through an entirely fake smile as she looped the bag’s straps over her shoulder. Zankou laughed, but nodded obligingly. “I’ve been thinking about ways to actually kill these demons once we find them, in between trying to figure out a spell that might _actually_ drop the Source, and I was wondering if wizards can curse people without being able to see them. My first thought was poison, but that would take planning, infiltration.”

“Not a bad thought.” Zankou acknowledged, and then pointed her towards one of the tunnels that branched off the main thoroughfare of his hideout. “You can ask them yourself, they’re staying in the caves down there.”

“Okay.” Phoebe agreed.

“While she’s busy, Leo, I wanted to introduce you to our alchemist.” Zankou went on, putting a companionable arm around Leo’s shoulders. “You seem to know your way around a wound, and while she’s excellent at mixing up tonics and tinctures, she’s not the best at handling the more physical side of things. I was hoping you could give her some pointers.”

“Uh…” Leo hesitated, looking uncertainly at Phoebe. Cole was off helping Zankou’s minions hassle various members of the Infernal Council, so it had fallen to Leo to ferry Phoebe to and from Zankou’s lair for the day. He was clearly reluctant to leave her on her own without a convenient escape if she needed it, but Phoebe didn’t think that level of paranoia around these demons was really necessary, so she waved him off and headed into the wizards’ lair alone.

Only a few feet inside the tunnel was a door, so she knocked. It swung outwards ponderously without anyone pushing it, forcing Phoebe to step back. Beyond it was a grand hall of pale flagstones and drystone walls hung with vibrant tapestries picturing gardens and forests. There were a couple of doors leading off the hall, and a grand sweeping staircase with a rich purple runner carpet curled along the rounded walls. Phoebe felt like she’d stepped back in time to some grand medieval castle.

From a door tucked beneath the stairs appeared a stately woman with tired eyes and long dark hair woven into a complicated set of braids, wearing pale blue and white robes and a scarf draped over the top of her head. In her hands was a dark wood staff half wrapped with bandages just under the lump of black metal set at the top. “Can we help you?” The… wizardess asked coldly.

“I was hoping to pick someone’s brain about curses?” Phoebe prompted hopefully.

The wizardess’s expression barely changed, but a tiny twitch of one eyebrow suddenly made Phoebe feel like a chastised child. “Why do you wish to know?” She asked, in the same cold monotone she’d used before.

“Well, it seems to me like killing the Infernal Council from a distance is a great idea, but I don’t really know much about curses, so… here I am.” Phoebe explained, feeling more and more awkward and unwelcome by the second. It wasn’t nearly enough to actually drive her off, or even to make her think twice, but she did shift her feet a little with a grimace.

“Very well. Come with me.” The wizardess stated, then turned on her heel and disappeared back the way she’d come. Phoebe lurched after her, ungainly in her surprise, and she found herself in a homey reading room with a roaring fireplace opposite the door, and windows that looked out over a view of a storm-tossed sea.

“Oh, wow.” Phoebe breathed, making a beeline for the windows. She pressed her hands against the glass, and then jerked away in shock at what she felt. Tentatively, she poked the glass, and once again felt coarse stone where she expected cool, smooth glass. “What?” She asked blankly.

“It is all illusion.” The woman informed her, the monotone finally breaking as bitterness seeped into her voice. Phoebe looked around and saw deep furrows etched in the middle of the woman’s forehead as she frowned heavily at the window that wasn’t. “I miss the sea, but it does not help.” She added after a moment, and with a thump of her staff, the windows vanished, only to be replaced by bland teal tapestries edged with green knotwork. Then she drew in a breath, and turned her focus to Phoebe. “You wished to speak of curses.” She said bluntly.

Phoebe could take a hint. Even though she was desperately curious, she didn’t ask about the vanished windows. “I guess the first and most important thing is; can you cast them from a distance?” She asked instead.

The woman relaxed a little, and nodded. “They are much like any other spell, in the technicalities. Without the one you wish to curse present, you would need some symbol you can associate with them, but that is not hard. A paper with their name on will do.”

Phoebe nodded slowly. “What about blocking a curse? Can that be done?”

“It’s _very_ difficult.” The woman hedged. “But I hesitate to say it is impossible. Most prefer to allow the curse to be cast, and then to counter it once one knows what it was designed to do. To block it, one must either know what one’s enemy is _going_ to do, or one must be warded against everything they _could_ do. I would not recommend trying it without foreknowledge.”

“And since they _do_ have a degree of foreknowledge?” Phoebe prompted.

“It is still difficult. Curses are, by their very nature, insidious. If one knows when and what one’s enemy is planning to curse one with, then it becomes a battle of wills, curse against counter-curse. Whomever lasts the longest without faltering will generally succeed.” The woman explained.

Phoebe frowned a little. “So… curses take a long time to cast?” She asked warily.

Again, the woman didn’t seem to want to commit to a definitive answer. She pursed her lips. “A curse that isn’t blocked will take effect almost instantly, much as any other spell one might cast. It is, at it’s most basic, an evocation of change through words and will. Sometimes, curses can even take the same form as most spells, rhythm and rhyme to shape one’s intent and aid one’s memory, but we do not teach beginners this method, because it can be very dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Phoebe echoed.

“Indeed. That is one of the crucial differences between a curse and a spell. A failed spell does nothing, while a failed curse is lethal.” The woman explained, and Phoebe’s eyes widened in shock. “This is why we teach that curses should always be open-ended, and crafting it through a chant or mantra is much safer than a simple spell. Curse one’s enemy with sickness, and maintain the curse, and one may kill them, or one may not, but either way the curse was completed the moment they became sick, and one can let the curse lapse whenever one likes. Curse them to die, and the curse is not complete until they are dead, and the curse will drain one dry in an attempt to achieve that end.”

“Oh.” Phoebe winced. Then she frowned. “But… I cast a curse once, and it was just like a spell. We put some herbs together, said a spell, and the warlock was cursed into a locket to suffer for all eternity.”

The woman pursed her lips in disapproval. “Did _you_ cast the curse?”

Phoebe opened her mouth, and then stopped, thinking back. “I actually think it was my dead ancestor we’d briefly resurrected?” She offered tentatively.

The woman looked impressed. “It is possible to cast a curse that will survive after your death, but it takes a great deal of power, and knowledge of the arcane powers of the world, and an acceptance of your own death that most mortals can never achieve. Most such curses that succeed and last are cast just before or at the moment of death, when it becomes inevitable, and the mortal body releases its desire to survive. Most know that life is magic, but few can truly appreciate that death has its own magic, too. To cast a death curse, one must use the power of their own death, of all death, to fuel it, instead of the magic of their life. You understand?” She asked, with a small grimace that suggested she wasn’t happy with how she had explained it.

Phoebe wasn’t sure she did understand. Something in her, something small and human and grieving, revolted against the idea that death was anything other than a loss, of life, of love, of magic. To accept and understand that there was some _potential_ in death felt intrinsically _wrong_. But intellectually, with everything she knew of magic, it made sense. Another small part of her, the part that was warrior and witch, wanted to embrace the idea that there could be power in her sister’s deaths, that perhaps she could use that to kill the one who killed them, to allow her sisters to have their _own_ vengeance.

“I-” She stammered, shaking her head. “I don’t-”

The woman smiled, a hard, bitter little thing, and put a hand up to halt Phoebe’s words. “Forgive me. You are a novice, I should not speak to you of such things.” Phoebe shook her head, but the woman gave her a stern look. “Do not think on it. You are not ready.”

Reluctantly, Phoebe tried to push the thoughts aside. Instead, she tried to focus back on why she was there in the first place. “So curses can’t just kill people? I suppose all that makes cursing one of the Infernal Council a bad idea then?” She asked wearily, resigned.

The woman frowned a little. “That depends. As I said, the key is in keeping your curses open-ended. Making them sick or draining their magic you could do, and simply cut it off if you felt it was taking too much energy. If you wanted to _kill them_ with a curse, then yes, that would be a bad idea. A lower level demon, you could curse, but then, you could kill them with a spell, so cursing them is rather useless to your purposes.”

Phoebe considered that for a long moment, and then her eyes lit up. “If you cursed someone with a drain on their magic, that would serve to weaken blood wards, wouldn’t it?” She asked hopefully.

The woman nodded. “It would. Immensely.”

With a jolt, Phoebe realised this was becoming a plan. If they were going to succeed and not be pre-empted by the Source’s Oracle, they had to move _now_. She hesitated, remembering what this woman had said about curses being slow. “If you cast a curse right now, how long would it take for the effects to be felt?”

“The effects would be felt immediately, but enough to bring down blood wards? Days.” The woman said. Then she reconsidered. “Or hours, if several of us worked in tandem.”

“What about just to weaken them?” Phoebe pressed.

The woman shrugged. “As I said, the effects would be felt immediately.”

“Okay. Can you get some people together and do that right now?” Phoebe asked urgently. “Cast a magic-draining curse on Valefar? As soon as possible?”

For a moment, the woman looked angry, eyes hard and jaw set, but then something in her shoulders relaxed, and she smiled, the first true smile Phoebe had seen. “I can.” She assured her, and then turned towards one of the bookshelves. With a thump of her staff, the bookcase vanished, revealing a door set in rough stone. The woman pushed through the door without hesitation, calling out “Rune! Run and fetch your father and the others! I need them for a spell! Fable! Set up the circle in the tower, we’ll need the strongest runes we have!”

“Yes, Mama!” Two young voices chorused.

The woman turned a look back on Phoebe, and offered her another one of those grim, hard smiles. “You had best go and prepare your assault, Charmed One. We will begin in a few minutes.”

“Great! Thank you!” Phoebe called, already running out of the room and racing back towards the main thoroughfare. She grabbed the first demon she came across, and demanded to know where Zankou was, and was pointed towards the alchemist’s lab.

On reaching it, she found Zankou, Leo, and a woman she didn’t recognise and didn’t care to having an animated conversation. “Zankou, I need to borrow some of your army, we’re hitting Valefar right now!”

“Of course.” Zankou replied, and strode back the way Phoebe had come. Phoebe hurried after him, dragging Leo with her. “I thought you wanted to speak about curses first?” He asked her as they walked. He reached out and seemed to snag a demon right out of thin air. A few sharp words, and the demon was gone again, presumably to gather some forces.

“I did. But then we accidentally came up with a plan, so we have to move now before the Oracle picks up on it.” Phoebe explained. Zankou nodded, and when they stepped out into the central cavern, there was a collection of maybe two dozen demons waiting there.

“Do you need more?”

“No, this should be fine.” Phoebe assured him, and then muttered the summoning spell for Belthazor, since she really didn’t want to go into battle without him. He appeared in a swirl of fog, already in his demon aspect, and he snarled at her in frustration. Phoebe snarled right back, more than a little bit mocking. “We’re going to kill another Council member.” She informed him.

“Oh, already?” Belthazor rumbled, coming over to stand beside Leo.

“Yes, let me just-” Phoebe pawed through the bag on her hip until she found the square of dark purple fabric that had once belonged to Valefar. She gripped it in her fist, and yanked viciously on her power until it responded. There was no room for ‘maybe’ right now. She needed a premonition, and she needed it to be the _present_ , not the past or the future. She needed to see where Valefar was _right now_.

The vision was reluctant, hazy. She was presented with the view of an archway draped with heavy black curtains. They were half open and waving in a faint draft. Beyond, Phoebe could see a rack of knives and the corner of what she thought was a chest. She tugged on the vision, demanding more, and the view drifted sideways, revealing the edge of another doorway, this one with a sheer curtain of dark grey, through which Phoebe glimpsed a bed, the blankets made lumpy by the shape resting underneath.

That was enough. Phoebe let go, and the recoil lashed at her mind, making her cry out a little as she staggered. Leo caught one arm, and Zankou caught her by the other. “Everything alright?” He asked warily, clearly expecting bad news.

Phoebe grinned. “I think he’s _sleeping_.” She informed him.

Zankou laughed. “Then let’s go!” He insisted, and flamed them as close to Valefar’s lair as he could reach. They arrived in a cave made of the same light grey rock as the archway from Phoebe’s vision, although she couldn’t see said archway yet. Instead, she saw a small group of demons lounging about. Or they were, until they registered the new arrivals, and leapt to their feet. Zankou moved first, launchign a shockwave that blasted all but two of them off their feet. Leo’s crossbow bolts caught the remaining two before Belthazor or Phoebe could even move.

Then more of Zankou’s demons were arriving, following his flame-trail, and they finished off the last of the demons with relish. “Which way?” Phoebe demanded of Zankou, and he shrugged. “Well, that’s fantastic.” Phoebe muttered, and looked around. The cave they were in didn’t seem to have any exits. “Well, there has to be _some way_ into Valefar’s lair.”

“Not necessarily.” Belathzor pointed out. “There isn’t a way into ours, is there?”

Phoebe gritted her teeth on a curse. “Can you break through blood-wards if you throw enough power against them?” She asked. “I mean, just by trying to get through them.”

“Possibly.” Zankou mused. “But it would take more power than any one demon possesses, except perhaps the Source at full power, to get through the wards of Council member that way.”

“If Valefar’s magic is being drained?” Phoebe prompted.

“That we might be able to do.” Zankou acknowledged. “But it would be easier if we could attack the wards directly, instead of just… pushing on them.”

Phoebe considered that. “Can you locate the wards in the physical world by trying to shimmer through them?” She asked Belthazor. He visibly thought about it, then shimmered out. Just before his outline vanished entirely, he snapped back into focus, staggering, teeth bared. Then he lifted a hand and pointed at one wall of the cave. “That way?” Phoebe checked, but she was already moving, pushing through the demons around her until she was nose-to-rock with the cave wall.

It was ragged, covered in crevices and outcrops, and Phoebe began investigating them curiously. “Try and blast through it.” She suggested to the demons as she peered through one crevice, and saw only darkness. The assault began, and after a chunk of rock nearly smacked her in the head, Phoebe backed up and let the people with more offensive powers get on with it without distraction.

After only a few minutes, a squad of demons shimmered into the cave, and attacked without preamble. They split their forces, some still assaulting the wall, and some turning to defend their allies’ backs. Phoebe joined them, since that was where she might be more useful, and she saw Leo at Cole’s back, shooting anyone who got too close.

Phoebe threw herself into the fight, finding a sense of satisfaction in the fight. She didn’t even bother trying to come up with a basic vanquishing spell, because she didn’t need to. At least half of the demons she kicked were vanquished by the shock wave her greaves created, and the other half were vanquished by her allies as they took advantage of their momentary disorientation.

Then, behind her, someone shouted “I see something!”

Phoebe spun away from the fight and joined Belthazor and Zankou as they converged on the crevice that had been widened by a handful of demons that Phoebe suspected were Mercury demons. There was something about them that just reminded her of Edom. She peered through the gap, and saw the edge of the archway from her vision. “This is it!” She confirmed, fierce with joy.

“Stand back.” Zankou ordered, and immediately had a large circle of empty space around him. He raised his hands and conjured up a fireball in each palm. He held them for a moment, visibly pouring more and more power into them, until they started to turn blue in their heart instead of red. Then he hurled them at either side of the narrow crevice. The rock gave way on both sides with a distressingly loud, violent cracking. Great chunks of stone were sent flying, and the parts that remained were glowing cherry red around the edges.

“Wow.” Phoebe complimented.

“Thank you.” Zankou replied, and fired off another, average fireball into the new gap. The gap itself was almost wide enough for one man, but several feet long. At the point where the gap opened out into the tunnel leading to the archway, the fire-ball hit an invisible barrier, and dissipated against it. “The rest of you keep widening the gap. Cole, if you wouldn’t mind helping me with the wards?” He requested.

Belthazor nodded, a nasty grin pulling his lips, and then the two powerful demons began pummelling the invisible wards. One of Belthazor’s energy-balls was reflected, and everyone ducked as it went ricocheting back towards them, over their heads, and taking out one of the enemy demons. Phoebe snickered. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Do you have a spell for demolishing rock walls?” Leo asked dryly, crossbow held loosely by his side.

Phoebe thought about it, considered rhymes for rock or stone, dismissed them as awkward, and settled on something really simple. After all, it wasn’t as if the stone itself was any more magical than the ambient magic _everywhere_ down here, she shouldn’t need much power behind the spell to make it work. She turned to the wall, focused on what she wanted, and recited; “ _The stone before me bars my way, remove it now don’t let it stay._ ”

With a shimmering of pale light, great chunks of both the wall and the ruble scattered around the floor vanished. Several of the demons made startled sounds, but then redoubled their efforts. Phoebe glared at the stone that was still there, and said the spell again. More rock vanished, mostly around the path that Zankou had already opened up, widening it until two could walk abreast down it without knocking their shoulders on the walls. That _was_ better, and it did give both Zankou and Belthazor room to manoeuvre, but Phoebe said the spell one more time anyway.

Then she was distracted from their attempts by the curtains hanging in the arch being flung back to reveal Valefar. He was far less _human_ looking than most of his peers. He was mostly wrapped in black clothes, trousers, shirt, jacket, boots, and gloves were all pitch black, and so was the strange shawl-cloak he had wrapped around his shoulders. The only break in the monotony was the glint of metal from the knives he had strapped _everywhere_ , much like Phoebe still did, and the fact that the skin of his face was dark grey, and the mop of hair hanging raggedly around his ears was a lighter grey. His eyes were large, and a fierce falcon-yellow with amber flecks around slit pupils.

“I knew you’d come eventually.” Valefar rasped, and Phoebe wondered if that was just how he normally spoke, or if the curse was already taking effect. “You will die today, Charmed One.”

“Not if you die first.” Phoebe retorted.

Valefar swiped an arm through the air, and a wave of little darts of dark energy flew from his fingertips. Phoebe ducked, but a few of the demons around her weren’t so lucky. They were hit, and Phoebe watched in horror as the darts seemed to seep into them and spill shadow across their skin as they writhed and clawed at the entry wound. Eventually, they disintegrated, but it looked like a horrible way to die.

Phoebe looked back to Valefar, only to find that he had staggered, and had one hand braced against the archway. He was staring down at his hand like it had betrayed him, and a grin unfurled across Phoebe’s face. The curse was working!

Valefar’s head jerked up to stare at her, and there was no way Phoebe could hide the triumph she was feeling. Outrage made Valefar’s eyes look even larger, and his upper lip peeled back to reveal pointed teeth. “ _What_ have you _done_?!” He demanded, taking two steps forwards, and then wobbling when Zankou unleashed a particularly devastating barrage against his wards.

“Just poked a hole in the bottom of your bathtub.” Phoebe said flippantly, shrugging one shoulder. “You want to come out here and save us the trouble, or do you want to draw out your death and make it messy?” She asked him, and she was maybe gloating a little, but she couldn’t help it.

Then Valefar did something she hadn’t expected. He ran. In a wisp of shadow and smoke, he vanished. Belthazor and Zankou paused, and then Zankou threw one last fire-ball. It hit the wards, and they shattered. At Phoebe and Belthazor’s surprised looks, he smiled. “He wasn’t going to waste power maintaining them when he knew we’d break them eventually.” He explained.

Phoebe nodded. “Can you follow his trail?” She asked.

Belthazor and Zankou both strode forwards, and Phoebe followed them a few steps behind. They paused near where Valefar had been standing, and closed their eyes, concentrating. Belthazor grimaced, and shifted back into Cole. “I’ve never felt anything this vague.” He explained with a grimace. “If I’m going to track him, it’ll take finess.”

“Which Belthazor isn’t best suited for.” Phoebe acknowledged.

“I think… I can tell roughly where he went.” Zankou murmured, but he was frowning at nothing, and he didn’t make a move to go anywhere.

Phoebe reached into her bag and grabbed the scrap of fabric again. She pulled on her power, closing her eyes to focus more clearly, but the only vision she saw was what she had already seen, Valefar smoking out right in front of them, with nothing they could do about it. Sighing in annoyance and feeling a headache pounding away behind her temples, she relaxed her grip on the fabric, opening her eyes to look to Cole, to see if he had any ideas. Their gazes met, and the vision swept over Phoebe and dragged her under with a vengeance.

She saw herself, standing in Valefar’s rooms, looking over the rack of knives, taking a few because they looked interesting. Cole called for her from Valefar’s bedroom, and Phoebe went, pushing aside the curtain, and saw Cole turn, holding up a large book to show to her. Then his eyes went wide, he dropped the book, and Phoebe lost all the air in her lungs as a knife drove between her shoulder blades.

She gasped desperately for air as she resurfaced, and her legs gave out on her. She collapsed, and Cole caught her half way to the ground, supporting her the rest of the way down. “Phoebe?” He called, voice hard with worry. Phoebe didn’t answer, too busy appreciating her ability to breathe without several inches of steel buried in her lungs. “What did you see?” Cole pressed. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s… going to come back here.” Phoebe told him, and her voice came out weaker than she meant it to. “I saw-” She stopped, because no, actually, she _hadn’t_ seen. “I _felt_ him stab me in the back.”

“Are you sure it was him?” Zankou asked.

Cole shot him a wrathful look for his lack of concern, but Phoebe couldn’t work up anything even resembling indignation. “Not totally.” She admitted. “But I was holding his token, and nothing else in the vision had much to do with what I’m touching, so I’d put good money on it.”

Zankou proceeded to grill her intently about everything she could remember from her vision, exactly where she’d been standing, exactly how Cole had reacted, where his eyes went when they widened, and what she felt when she was being stabbed. Cole glared at him through the entire process, but Phoebe was honestly on Zankou’s side. The more they could wring out of her vision, the better prepared they’d be to kill Valefar when he showed up.

Finally, Zankou was satisfied, and he picked out a handful of demons to join them inside Valefar’s lair, and headed through the curtain. Phoebe clambered to her feet with Cole’s help and managed one step in that direction before Cole’s grip on her arms became restraining rather than supportive. “Where do you think you’re going?” He asked in a very dangerous tone.

“To help kill Valefar?” Phoebe reminded him.

“You are not stepping foot inside the room you _just_ saw someone _murder you in_.” Cole informed her. Phoebe’s eyebrows flew up, and she turned to face him fully. “No.” Cole said before she could get a word out. “I don’t care if you want to help, I don’t care if you think you need to be there, I don’t _care_. I’m not going to lose you.”

“No. You won’t.” Phoebe agreed. “Because I’m not going to be an idiot and turn my back on the room when I know a demon’s about to try and stab me in the back.”

“You don’t need to be there, so why tempt fate?” Cole demanded.

“Because I need to be _sure_.” Phoebe shot back, glaring. “I need to _see him die_ , or I’m going to be looking over my shoulder for the rest of forever! I _felt it_ , Cole. I- My premonitions must be getting stronger, because I keep _feeling_ what’s happening as well as seeing it. If people are angry, or happy, or in pain. And I _felt him stab me_.” She shuddered, and resisted the urge to reach up and check that there wasn’t a knife in her back.

Cole’s expression softened, but he didn’t look like he was about to give in. “Can’t you just wait ou-”

It was just like her vision, except it was entirely wrong. Cole’s eyes went wide, and Phoebe _knew_ exactly what it was going to feel like, the knife sliding through her flesh next to her spine, scraping the bone, the way she wouldn’t even have the air to cry out. The world suddenly seemed very far away, she couldn’t feel her extremities, and her ears were ringing like someone was holding a dentist’s drill up to her head. She wanted to turn, to _move_ , but she couldn’t even convince her lungs to try for one more breath.

Something solid slammed into her shoulder, and Phoebe realised she was on the floor. Confused, alarmed, but no longer panicking, she rolled over. For a heartbeat, she was afraid she’d made a mistake, that there would be a knife in her back and she was going to land on it and twist it, but then she was on her back and everything was fine, and she focused back on what she was seeing.

Belthazor had slammed into Valefar and knocked the knife out of his hands. Phoebe could see it glittering on the floor at their feet, saw someone’s foot kick it in her direction as the two of them grappled. It wasn’t a very even fight. Whatever the wizards had done, Valefar was definitely still feeling it, but he was a wily demon, and he kept squirming out of the way of any attempt to actually kill him. Belthazor couldn’t let go of him, even just with one hand, because then he’d manage to get free and disappear again.

Phoebe considered getting up, trying to help, but she really didn’t think there was anything she could do. If she tried to get in on the fight, she’d only get in Belthazor’s way. And then there was a ringing _crack_ , and Valefar crumpled into the flames that leapt up around his feet.

That was when Phoebe became aware of Zankou and Leo standing in the archway, Zankou’s demons clustered behind them, staring just like she was at Belthazor’s still form. Abruptly, movements jerky, he rounded on Phoebe. “Happy now?” He growled at her.

Phoebe blinked. She looked down at the scorch mark burnt into the floor at his feet, and then back up at his face. Slowly, she felt herself starting to smile. “Yeah, maybe.” She admitted wryly, levering herself up to sit, crossing her legs lazily. “Getting there.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late (oops, sorry) but at least it's only a day, instead of a whole week, right? ^^"

“It’s almost the Autumn Equinox.”

Phoebe looked up from banging her head against the brick wall that was the Source vanquishing spell to stare at Leo. He glanced up at her, and offered her a one-shouldered shrug. “How soon?” Phoebe asked urgently, scrabbling for a fresh piece of vellum to begin scribbling an entirely new spell.

“A few minutes.” Leo replied with an apologetic grimace. “You seem to want to keep your plans moving quickly, so I didn’t mention it until now.” He explained, abandoning the book he was reading to come and read over Phoebe’s shoulder as she attempted to piece together something with the right symbolism to properly draw on the power of the equinox.

“Mm.” Phoebe agreed, scratching out a failed attempt and reworking a few lines to see if they flowed better that way. They didn’t, so she screwed up the vellum and lobbed it across their headquarters, reaching for another sheet. She kept her thoughts on the spell, on evoking the Horned God and the representation of balance, not on everything else this day used to mean to her.

Her hand was shaking. Leo reached out and covered it with his own, stilling her frantic scribbling. “What’s wrong?” He asked, all soft concern.

“Today was our anniversary as witches.” Phoebe replied shortly.

Leo sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh.” He murmured, and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. After a long, drawn out moment in which they both tried not to get swallowed up by the grief, Leo said “I think killing the demon that killed them would be a pretty good anniversary gift.”

Phoebe’s head snapped up, and she stared at him. “We couldn’t.” She said quietly, although the idea _felt_ right. The symbolism of it, the poetic justice, all of it would add power to her spell. She had considered waiting until All Hallow’s Eve, the wiccan new year, when the veil between worlds was thin, in an attempt to call upon those on the other side. Calling on any spirit on Halloween, though, always ran the risk of inviting _other_ things through. But she could use the power of their anniversary to invoke them without opening a door for anything else. “We can’t kill _three more_ of the Council _and_ the Source in one day, Leo. It’s not possible.”

“We can try.” Leo countered, eyes hard.

Phoebe shook her head, but her heart was suddenly racing. “Wait.” She said, grabbing hold of Leo’s wrist to help steady herself. “Don’t most wiccan anniversaries count a year _and a day_ as the most auspicious timing?” She asked him. “A year and a day times three. Can you… can you measure the days accurately enough to say when it’s three days after the equinox?”

“Maybe.” Leo hesitated, then turned his hand to squeeze her wrist in return. “But _you_ should be able to sense it. It’s _your_ anniversary.”

“I didn’t before.” Phoebe whispered.

“You didn’t know to pay attention, before.” Leo countered.

Phoebe drew in a breath that shook all the way, and let it out in a heavy sigh. “Okay. We probably shouldn’t be planning this, but… but I want to try anyway.” She admitted sheepishly. Leo gave a tiny start, and his gaze went right through Phoebe like he couldn’t even see her anymore. “Leo?” She called, giving his arm a tiny shake.

“We _should_ plan it.” He said. “ _Let_ the Oracle tell the Source _exactly_ where we’ll be when we try to trap him. It won’t matter that he knows it’s a trap, he’ll come anyway. He wants to kill you, and he only stopped showing up himself after we freed Zankou, so…”

“So if it’s just the three of us, he’ll come, even knowing that I wouldn’t stand still long enough for him to get me unless I had something. He’s arrogant enough to assume he could beat it, whatever it is.” Phoebe realised.

Leo gave her a hard smile. “And he won’t know the significance of the day. He might know that’s _when_ it’ll happen, but he won’t know _why_ you chose then. That’ll give us an advantage.”

“Yes.” Phoebe agreed, looking down at her partially complete Source vanquishing spell. She wanted to get to work on it right now, to finish it and make sure their plan would work. But instead, she shook the urge off, and went back to a spell she hoped would be able to vanquish another of the Infernal Council. The moment it was done, she moved to her potions table to begin mixing up something to enhance and empower the spell.

Mabon was another harvest festival, so a lot of the herbs and plants associated with it weren’t exactly common in the barren underworld. On the other hand, Phoebe recalled with a hint of glee, Mabon was also a sabbat of balance, life and death in equal measure, and while grains were rare, pomegranates, the fruit of life and death, were _very_ easy to get in the underworld. She added myrrh and sage to her bowl of pomegranate seeds, and the precious scraps of dried thistle and ivy she’d collected, and then thinned the mixture with a splash of wine.

The tincture glowed faintly with ruby light as she poured it into a vial, a sign that there was power imbued in it. Power to do what, even Phoebe wasn’t entirely sure, and she was still thinking about the best way to use it – Should she drink it? Throw it at the demons – when she darted across the room to grab up her bag of trinkets and plunge her hand into it. Her fingers closed around a large, cold ring, and she reached for her power, tugging on the strings of time.

Nothing came to her for several long minutes, but then her vision washed red, clear and brilliant, and through the wave of colour, Phoebe got a look at the near future. She could see a tall man with a massive bushy beard and a dark metal circlet perched on top of his long braided hair. He was standing before a bookshelf, browsing, and when he turned, Phoebe saw a large library. It might not have been bustling, but there were several other demons around, and above an archway nearby, Phoebe saw a symbol she recognised.

Abruptly, the man’s head snapped up, and his gaze locked on Phoebe, spearing clean through her vision and fixing on her. He looked alarmed, startled, and the shock of having someone in one of her visions _look back_ knocked Phoebe out of touch with her power. The vision shattered, and she blinked only to find herself staring at Leo.

“He saw me.” Phoebe gasped, stunned. “I- Or… he _will_ see me?”

“He felt your premonition?” Leo guessed, looking just as stunned and alarmed as the demon had.

Phoebe shrugged, then nodded, then grabbed his arm. On doing so she realised that at some point while she’d been preparing, so had he, because he had his crossbow in one hand. “We have to go _now_.” She insisted, swinging her bag over one shoulder clumsily. “He’ll know we’re coming soon.”

“Go where?” Leo asked.

“The Library. You remember, when we raided the armoury, Cole pointed out the lib-” Phoebe began, and Leo orbed them out before she could finish. The white lights vanished, revealing the central hub of the underworld that Cole had brought them to so many months ago. “-rary.” Phoebe finished uselessly, and they bolted. They ploughed through the atrium, Leo shooting anyone who moved to attack, and darted down the tunnel that Cole had indicated was the library.

Phoebe looked around, made an instinctive guess at where her vision had been located, and ran, Leo hot on her heels. She caught the edge of a bookshelf to swing herself around it, and saw the scene from her vision in full colour, instead of washed in red. The man’s robes were still red, but his beard and hair were grey, and she saw from a lower angle as he looked up sharply, staring with glazed eyes into the middle distance. His book slipped through his fingers in his shock.

Then his head dropped and his gaze focused on her again. “Ah.” He said.

They both moved at the same time, jerking their hands up in a flicking motion. A shock wave slammed into Phoebe’s middle, but not before an arc of red liquid splashed the demon in the face. He recoiled, spluttering, as Phoebe crashed into Leo and they went down in a tangle. Leo freed his arm enough to fire off a bolt at the demon, and Phoebe twisted so that she could see him. That was all she needed. “ _By the Horned God and the Goddess Dark, no longer is the harvest stark,_ ” Phoebe began, and the demon cursed, staggering back a step before turning to run. _Now_ Phoebe lurched upright, and made chase _“So on this day of balance true, where life from death we reap with you,_ ” She shouted after the demon. He flung a hand behind him, but this time, Phoebe was ready, and she rolled under the shock wave. Several other demons converged on them, but crossbow bolts kept them at bay, so Phoebe paid them no more mind that she needed to. “ _To fix the scale what lives must die, in payment take these demons spry._ ”

The red robed demon burst into flames. He screamed and flailed, and then bolts seemed to spit out of the inferno that had swallowed him, hitting every other demon in the library in the chest, and consuming them as well. Within seconds, the library was empty save for Phoebe, Leo, and two dozen piles of ash.

“Let’s get out of here.” Leo suggested.

“Yeah.” Phoebe agreed, feeling rather shellshocked at how _quickly_ everything had happened. He grabbed her shoulder, and orbed them to Zankou’s lair. They stepped out into the main thoroughfare, and after a moment’s hesitation, Phoebe angled her steps towards the cave where they’d held their first war council. Her intuition proved correct, because she found Zankou in there, deep in discussion with a pair of demons.

He noticed them when the other two demons were too busy staring at Phoebe to answer him, and he looked around to see what had got them so tongue-tied. “Phoebe, and Leo.” He greeted with a smile. “Are you planning another sneak attack?” He asked.

“Uh, no.” Phoebe admitted, still rather dazed. “We just did one, actually.”

Zankou’s eyebrows flew up. “Oh? Who did you get?”

“Uh…” Phoebe said again, realising that she actually had no idea who the demon had been. “Evil Gandalf?” She offered. Zankou just looked blank. It dawned on her that, of course, Zankou had been imprisoned in the underworld for _five hundred years_. He wouldn’t have any idea who Gandalf was. “Um… he was wearing red robes?” She offered.

“An Infernal Council member, then.” Zankou concluded, nodding for her to go on.

“He had a beard? And a weird black circlet thing in his hair?” Phoebe gestured with her hands, index finger and thumb spread and curled around either side of her head. Zankou stared at her, showing not a single sign of comprehension. “Um… His hair and beard were kind of bushy? Grey? And…” She tried to think of any other identifying features, and came up blank. She gestured helplessly.

“You vanquished _Paimon_.” Zankou stated, but in such a tone of disbelief it sounded more like a question.

“Was that his name?” Phoebe quipped, frustrated.

Zankou finally unfroze, and lifted a hand to rub at his forehead, rendered momentarily speechless. “How did you even _find_ him? I thought you were using your premonitions to locate your targets.”

Phoebe blinked at him. “I am.”

“Paimon has warded himself against seers of all kinds, including the white power of premonition.” Zankou informed her. “He is invisible to all forms of magical sight.”

Understanding began to dawn on Phoebe, and she looked down at her little vial of equinox amplifier. “Well, it’s Mabon.” She explained, and at Zankou’s blank look, she elaborated, holding up the vial for him to see. “The autumn equinox. It’s a wiccan sabbat of balance, of life and death and the eternal cycle. I mixed this up using herbs associated with Mabon, it’s a sort of focus and amplifier, allowing me to channel the cosmic powers that are at their peak today. I had some on my fingers when I touched Paimon’s token. My whole vision was washed red, and it did feel like I was sort of… peering through a curtain.”

“White magic is _terrifying_.” One of the other demons muttered.

Zankou inclined his head. “Of course it is.” He agreed, and gave Phoebe a long, indecipherable look. “You still have some of that potion left.” He pointed out. “Do you think you could do it again?”

“Yes.” Phoebe answered without even stopping to think about it. She reached for her bag, and rooted around until she drew out the two items that belonged to remaining members of the infernal council. One was a large ruby pendant on a sturdy silver chain, which was a trophy Zaleos had claimed from some seduction of an influential human. The other was a tiny, chipped throwing knife with a handle designed to be tucked between two fingers, rather than held within a fist, that once belonged to Separ. Phoebe held one in each hand, closed her eyes, and focused.

The vision she got felt like the future, and not the immediate future. She was looking down at a room of sleek obsidian floor and walls, with great curving pillars like monstrous ribs running down either side of the hall. Heat radiated from her back, a molten light flooding the room before her like a stage, and directly below and before her, knelt a demon. All she could see of him was the top of his head, his shoulder-length dark hair, and the lean curve of his back under leather. “You sent for me, my liege?” The demon asked, looking up. His face might have been handsome in an aristocratic way, if it wasn’t for the fact that he had fine scales tinged with green covering every inch of skin.

Phoebe shoved the premonition aside. If that demon was wherever the Source was – or _would be_ at some point in the future – it wasn’t any use to her now. She pooled her magic into the other token, focused on the present, and pulled on her power. What she saw was a small cavern, with one large door standing open and leading out into a broad, well lit tunnel, and one door, firmly shut, at the top of a staircase that curved around the walls.

In the doorway leading out into that annoyingly familiar tunnel stood a man wearing a hooded, sleeveless jacket over a billowing shirt and loose trousers tucked into knee-high boots. His arms were folded across his chest, facing another figure Phoebe couldn’t quite place since she couldn’t see their face, although she felt that she knew them from somewhere. The other demon’s face she could see, and it was just a little bit _wrong_. His mouth was too wide, his eyes too far apart, his cheekbones too high. “-patience. If you cannot track your prey, you must wait for it to come to you.” The demon that had to be Separ was saying in perfect monotone.

“I _hate_ waiting.” The figure opposite him snapped, and it was the voice that triggered Phoebe’s memory. These were Leraikhe’s halls, and the figure with her back to Phoebe’s viewpoint was Leraikhe herself. “The enemy should never be allowed to reach the heart of your stronghold, but she’s infiltrated mine _twice_ already, and you want me to let her do it again?!”

“Yes.” Separ stated dispassionately. “There are myriad ways to conceal oneself with magic. It’s much more expedient to bait a trap and wait for her to come to us. We know she will.” Slowly, a smile began to peel back the corners of his lips, revealing a mesh of elongated, pointed teeth like an anglerfish. “And thus the hunter becomes the hunted.”

“I’ve already tried trapping her once before, it didn’t work!” Leraikhe exclaimed, beginning to pace.

“No, you tried overwhelming her. Tricking her into making herself vulnerable is not the same as using force to hammer her into submission.” Separ stated without any inflection, and yet he still managed to convey an aura of exasperation. Leraikhe gave a wordless growl of frustration, and the vision faded, leaving Phoebe to shake herself out of the last lingering traces, and look at her companions.

“Separ is in Leraikhe’s lair right now, and they’re planning a trap for me.” She informed them, feel a mix of trepidation and annoyance swirl to life inside her. If anyone tried to stop her from going, she was going to scream, or maybe vanquish someone.

But no one did. Probably, she realised with a trace of guilt, because Cole wasn’t there to worry about her. Instead, Zankou only smiled, a vicious gleam in his eyes. “I’ll gather some demons and be right behind you.”

Phoebe smiled back with answering viciousness. “We’ll be done by the time you get there.” Zankou laughed, and Phoebe wasted no more time. She grabbed Leo’s arm and dragged him back to the antechamber they could orb from. He took them to the tunnel outside Leraikhe’s lair without protest. Separ was still there, standing in the doorway, and he turned on some instinct as they arrived. That disturbing smile split his face again when he saw them.

“Ah, how nice of you to join us.” He greeted as he turned to face them. “We’ve been waiting.”

Phoebe didn’t bother to engage in banter, she just charged forwards. Separ didn’t seem fazed at all by seeing her barrelling towards him. He just continued to smile as he dropped something on the floor and stepped on it with the sound of breaking glass. A crossbow bolt whipped past her shoulder, but Separ swayed to avoid it, then gestured widely with both arms. Something shimmered in the air, but Phoebe paid it no mind since she was already on top of him.

Her first attempt to splash him with her potion failed as he batted her hand aside before she could complete the throwing motion. Where he touched her, Phoebe’s skin immediately began to blister and burn, and she stepped back with a hiss of pain, watching Separ warily for an opening. Leo provided her one as he shot at the demon again, and he was momentarily distracted by dodging. Phoebe tossed a splash of her potion at him, but somehow he twisted, swayed like gravity wasn’t a thing for him, and evaded it entirely. Then he sprang back upright and fired off a single bolt of dark energy.

Phoebe ducked, and the dark energy sailed clear over her head. She turned the motion into a lunge, and darted in close to Separ, ready to pour her potion over his head. He caught her arm in his hand, and immediately her skin began to blister and burn like he was secreting acid. Phoebe couldn’t help the strangled scream that escaped her, and Separ’s smile widened to the point that it threatened to split his face in half.

Behind her there was an almighty crash, and Leo gave a pained noise, but Phoebe couldn’t afford to look away from her enemy. He lashed out with his free hand, but Phoebe managed to twist out of the way, and she brought her other hand up to punch him in the face. He twisted to evade as well, and Phoebe used her own shifted balance to slam a kick into his side. He staggered back into the cavern beyond, where Leraikhe was standing, feet braced wide and arms crossed, content to simply watch rather than intervene.

Phoebe glanced behind her, just briefly, and then looked again, because she couldn’t quite comprehend what she was seeing. The tunnel was gone. Where it had before stretched out too far for Phoebe to see, there was now a wall of massive, jagged pieces of stone, interlocking haphazardly and filling up the tunnel from floor to ceiling. Leo was just staggering to his feet, blood blooming through his clothes on his side. Some of the debris must have hit him on its way down.

Leo met her gaze for a moment, and yelled her name. Phoebe didn’t bother to look for whatever had alarmed him, just dove into a forward roll and twisted on her way back up to face the way she’d come. She saw Separ stepping lightly to the side to clear a path for a bolt of black lightning winging its way toward her. Phoebe threw herself backwards, heart suddenly in her throat as she raced to put _something_ between herself and that weapon. She could _feel_ the little hairs all over her body standing on end as she finally dove behind a piece of rubble, and she didn’t even have a second to catch her breath before the chunk of rock shattered explosively, pelting her with tiny projectiles that slashed through the skin of her cheek and hand and neck.

“I trust you can take the witch?” Separ asked, looking over his shoulder at Leraikhe.

“Of course.” Leraikhe answered smugly, already drawing her bow again, summoning more black lightning to her hands. Separ inclined his head, then threw himself at Leo, who fended him off with a couple of shots, then had to dodge backwards to stay out of reach of his acid touch. Phoebe flung herself behind another, smaller shard of stone from the cave in to protect herself from the next arrow, but she knew she couldn’t keep this up forever. There just weren’t that many things for her to use as a shield here.

Her cover exploded, opening more tiny cuts over her exposed skin, and Phoebe almost crashed into Leo as she tried to bolt. He grabbed hold of her, and white lights rose up in a circle around them, but the world around them didn’t shift, and the orbs burned out before they could carry them away. Leo’s face went pale, and Phoebe dragged them both down to the ground, then rolled, to avoid first Separ’s acid-touch, and then the dark lightning. It tried to follow them, but couldn’t change direction quite fast enough, and blasted into the ground right next to them instead.

“No running away now that the tide has turned in our favour.” Separ chided blandly, and reached for them. Phoebe punched his arm with her gloved hand, but while the punch connected and knocked him off balance, the sparking static did nothing. There was a gleam of magic at Separ’s throat, and Phoebe remembered, too late, that Edom had told her that he had some sort of protective amulet. It only protected against magic, though, it seemed.

Heart in her throat, Phoebe lunged upright in the bare fraction of a moment she had while Separ was still off-balance. She was far too aware of the sound of lightning crackling to life behind her, but she forced her attention to remain on Separ as she feinted with another static-charged and useless punch. Separ went to dodge, and Phoebe brought her other hand up, splashing the last of her amplifying potion onto his chest. The demon looked down at the red stain spreading across his clothes, and then looked up with a completely blank look that still somehow managed to convey just how unimpressed he was.

Phoebe didn’t have time to respond. She took only the heartbeat that was necessary to snatch at that gleam of magic before she just threw herself behind the last real piece of cover she could see, one last chunk of rock from the cave in that wasn’t too interlocked with the rest to hide behind. She got there in time, fist clenched tight around a small brooch, and the rock was big enough to even half survive the impact of the lightning. She really hoped she wasn’t going to need to use it again.

“ _By the Horned God and Goddess Dark, no longer is the harvest stark,_ ” Phoebe began, and though her instinct was to rush, the rhythm of the words kept her pace, and she realised abruptly why most spells were poems. If she’d been able to just scramble through it, she might have gotten words mixed up or missed some out, and it would have been _so easy_ to flub the spell. She looked up to meet the demon’s eyes, ignoring the renewed crackle of lightning to _watch_ as she vanquished this bastard. “ _So on this day of balance true, where life from death we reap with you, to fix the scale what lives must die, in payment take these demons spry._ ”

The demon’s eyes flew wide as the flames burst to life on his chest, but it wasn’t him who screamed, it was Leraikhe. It was a scream of denial and rage, but it took her focus, and Phoebe glanced over to see that she’d released the tension of her bowstring, arms only holding the weapon limply now as she stared in horrified outrage as her ally burned. The other demon didn’t make a sound as the flames consumed him, but the look he fixed on Phoebe was nothing short of blood-curdling.

A bolt of flames burst out of the inferno, and launched itself at Leraikhe. That seemed to wake her up, and she loosed a bolt of lightning at it. They collided in the doorway, and exploded with enough force that Phoebe covered her face with her arms to protect her skin from the heat that washed over her. Dust and small chunks of stone rained down from the ceiling, and Phoebe prayed none of them hit her hard enough to do real damage.

Once the blast had died, Phoebe rose to her feet and turned to face Leraikhe head on. She found the archer flat on her back, burns covering her face and the hand holding her bow, and she started walking through the rubble towards her, trying to piece together a spell that might work. “Phoebe.” Leo called warningly, but Phoebe ignored him. They couldn’t run, and Phoebe wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity presented by having her enemy weak and vulnerable before her. If she could just figure out another spell to better draw on the powers of the equinox _without_ her potion…

Leraikhe took one look at her, and vanished in a rippling shimmer. Phoebe stopped dead under the jagged arch that used to be a doorway, and blew out a sigh that took all of the tension of the battle with it. She suddenly felt very weary. “How did she…?” Leo asked, coming up to stand beside Phoebe.

“That potion the other one smashed when we first arrived.” Phoebe reminded him, gesturing vaguely at the ground at their feet. “It must have been the last point on a pentagram to seal off this section of tunnel, or the heart of a ward, or something like that. Either it doesn’t reach in there-” Phoebe waved at where Leraikhe had been lying. “-or that explosion broke it somehow.”

“Let’s get out of here.” Leo stated, but he didn’t give Phoebe a chance to respond before he grabbed her elbow and took them back to Zankou’s lair. They landed in the midst of a small knot of alarmed demons, and the moment they appeared, Phoebe’s free elbow was being grabbed by Zankou himself.

“What happened?!” He demanded, his tone almost as fierce as his glare.

“They weren’t _planning_ a trap.” Phoebe informed him with a grimace. “It _was_ a trap.”

Zankou’s eyes flashed, but whatever surge of temper he was feeling, he didn’t show it any other way. “Let’s get out of the doorway.” He decided, and guided everyone out of the little antechamber. He glanced around at the demons and various other creatures clustering around him. “You’re all dismissed.” He informed them, waving a hand, and they melted reluctantly away. “And _you_ should probably see if there’s anything our alchemist can do for you.” He added to Leo, who raised a hand to his blood-soaked side, and winced.

“It’s not like it can kill me.” Leo pointed out, almost petulantly.

Zankou raised his eyebrows, supremely unimpressed. “I’ll bet it still hurts. At least get bandages and a painkiller, there’s _really_ no need for any of that stoic posturing here.” He chided. Leo sighed and nodded his acceptance, and even managed a little self-deprecating smile for Zankou before he ambled off. Zankou watched him go with a small frown, then beckoned for Phoebe to follow him into the command chambers, where he leaned against the edge of the table, arms crossed, and asked for an account of what had happened.

Phoebe had just gotten to the part where she vanquished the demon that Zankou had identified as Separ, when Cole burst into the room, looking furious with his worry. “I’m fine.” Phoebe assured him, but she let him wrap her in a fierce hug all the same.

“I heard you’d gotten caught in a _trap_.” Cole snapped.

“I did, but I escaped. And I even vanquished Separ on my way out.” Phoebe assured him. She wanted to feel smug about that, but mostly she was just tired, and underneath that was a low-level hum of tension. A little mantra in the back of her mind kept reminding her that there was just one left, just one more member of the Council, and then she could vanquish the Source.

Cole growled, low in his chest, a sound that was more Belthazor than Cole. “You’re not going up against any more of the Council without me there.” He informed her in a tone that brooked no argument. Phoebe still considered arguing just on principle, but it wasn’t just Cole who would feel better if they stuck together from now on.

“There’s only one left now.” Phoebe pointed out, and Cole glared at her. She smiled back cheekily. “But okay.” She capitulated. Cole’s glare softened but didn’t disappear entirely, and Phoebe rolled her eyes at him. “I’d appreciate the back-up.”

Cole sighed and relented, leaning into press a kiss to her forehead. “You can’t afford to get reckless when we’re this close. You need to remember to be careful, to take care of yourself.” He reminded her, but he sounded more concerned than angry.

“I know, but we only have two or three _days_ to get the last one-” Phoebe began.

“Wait, what?” Cole interrupted sharply. Phoebe blinked at him, and then realised she hadn’t actually explained her plan to him. So she sighed, dragged him over to the table and the chairs, sat him down and set about explaining the Charmed anniversary to him and her plan to kill the Source.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is now going to be an epilogue! -gasp- I was hit by inspiration at one in the morning, and churned the whole thing out in one go.

Meditation was the only way Phoebe could sense her impending anniversary, so she meditated whenever she had some time to herself, to get a better idea of how fast it was approaching. Anxiety was added to the cocktail of emotions she had learned to live with as hours, and then a whole day or more ticked by without any sign of the remaining Infernal Council members. They had a matter of _hours_ left before the anniversary began and Phoebe would hopefully be able to channel Charmed power, and the pressure to break that last symbolic protection of the Source’s was rising with every minute.

“They’ve all gone into hiding.” Zankou informed her, when Phoebe asked if his people had discovered anything, since her premonitions were useless.

“They’re in _hiding_?!” Phoebe echoed in disbelief.

Cole snorted, and Phoebe rounded on him, looking for an answer. He smiled fondly at her. “You have killed two thirds of them. They must be _terrified_ of you.” He explained proudly.

“I’m surprised it took them this long.” Leo interjected. He sounded proud too, but Phoebe was too frustrated to feel good about that.

“We’ve got to do _something_.” She pressed, gesturing angrily in the air. “We have maybe a couple of _hours_ left before the anniversary, and we _need_ to kill one more Council member before then or the Source will still hold that symbolic protection!”

“Yes, we know.” Zankou sighed, giving Phoebe a deeply unimpressed look as he spread his hands in invitation. “If you have any ideas, please, I’m all ears. I have demons and vampires out looking, we have traps set around the lairs we’ve been able to locate, you’ve been forcing premonitions all day, the wizards have been scrying all day. What else is there for us to try?” Phoebe was glad that Zankou at least wasn’t mocking them with that last question. He sounded genuine, like he was entirely interested in anything anyone could suggest and inviting ideas, no matter how wild.

“There’s Astaroth.” Cole pointed out.

“Oh! Wait… wouldn’t the harpies have asked her, already?” Phoebe asked, frowning.

Cole side-eyed her, like he was worried she might not like what he was about to say next. A little alarmed, Phoebe turned to face him, giving him her full attention, and made her expression as open and accepting as she could. Cole cleared his throat. “I meant, if we need to, we could kill her. We know where her lair is, and even if she’s not there, it’d probably be fairly easy to lure her into a trap. Easier than the others, anyway.” He corrected himself with a grimace.

“That’s a good idea.” Zankou agreed. “Well done!” He clapped Cole on the shoulder, but Cole ignored him, eyes on Phoebe, who met his gaze and held it. The thing was, she didn’t know how she felt about that idea. On the one hand, Astaroth was a demon, a creature of evil, and it shouldn’t bother her to think of killing her, but on the other hand, they were allies, they were working together against the Source, and to just turn on Astaroth because it was _convenient_ felt wrong.

“Phoebe?” Cole asked tentatively.

“I don’t like it.” Phoebe admitted with a grimace. “She’s helping us.”

“For her own reasons.” Zankou pointed out. “She wouldn’t hesitate to give us up to the Source if she thought it would get her what _she_ wanted. There’s no reason to discard a workable plan just for some mortal concept of fair play. There’s no such thing as a fair fight.”

“It’s not about playing fair, it’s about _integrity_.” Phoebe shot back, offended that Zankou thought he had the right to lecture her.

“I think there’s a problem with this plan that makes this argument moot, anyway.” Leo interupted, stepping forwards and holding his hands out between Phoebe and Zankou, looking between them to make sure they were both listening before he went on.

Zankou folded his arms, eyes narrowed. “And what’s that?” He asked mildly.

“If Astaroth is the sort of person who’d sell us out if it benefited her, what makes any of you think she won’t see a double-cross coming a mile away, given the givens?” Leo asked dryly. “She knows about the anniversary, because the harpies know, and she knows we need to kill just one more council member, because she can _count_. Wouldn’t she _expect_ us to come after her, if we were desperate?”

Phoebe could accept that he was right, and she felt a small swell of relief that she didn’t have to decide what to do about the moral quandary. Zankou continued to stare at Leo for a long moment, but then he sighed, and dipped his head in acknowledgement. “You’re right, of course. And Astaroth is powerful enough that I honestly couldn’t say who would win a flat out fight, even if we managed to get that far, which there’s no guarantee we would. She is a trickster by nature.”

“Exactly.” Leo sighed in relief, and backed up a step.

“But it still leaves us the problem of how to find a council member before the Charmed anniversary.” Zankou went on, expression hardening. “I have not come this far to fail now.”

“Me neither.” Phoebe agreed, matching his expression.

There was a moment of silence as they all tried to think of another idea, any idea. “Why don’t we start with who’s left?” Leo suggested, looking mainly at Zankou.

“Bael, Astaroth, and Zaleos of the Infernal Council proper, and Seire, Leraikhe, and Kimaris of the High Council.” Zankou rattled off at once. “We’ve ruled out Astaroth, and Bael is more powerful than me, and older, to boot. He might not be a trickster, but he’s canny, and smart. I doubt we could get the drop on him.” He announced without a hint of resentment or rancour.

“And Zaleos?” Cole asked. “I don’t know anything about him.”

Zankou grimaced. “My first reaction is that he’s soft, but the fact that he has a seat on the Infernal Council means that I’m missing something. I wouldn’t choose to go up against him until I knew how he’d earned his seat.”

“Fair.” Phoebe acknowledged. “It makes more sense to go after one of the High Council, anyway. They’re weaker, right?”

“When the council is whole, absolutely. But now that most of its cumulative power has been broken, it’s a toss up. They had to earn their seats just like the others, and the power boost they’re all getting right now will be about equal.” Zankou explained, holding both hands out, palms up, and alternating which one was higher in a gesture clearly meant to represent unbalanced scales. “On the one hand, they’re probably weaker than the Infernal Council, or they would have chosen to try for a higher seat. On the other hand, its probably a negligible difference, given that they’re the last, and the tiers have been almost entirely destroyed.”

“Leraikhe and Kimaris are younger, though. Less experienced.” Cole pointed out. “And we’ve already established that going after the Seer is a fool’s plan.”

“She _can_ be decieved.” Zankou pointed out, a smug smile lighting up his eyes. “But it is difficult, and it would take a lot of preparation which we don’t have time for.” He acknowledged. “So out of Leraikhe and Kimaris… I’d suggest Leraikhe is our best bet.”

“How come?” Phoebe demanded, frowning.

Zankou gave her a prompting, amused sort of look, eyebrows raised and lips twisted like he was trying to bite back a smile. “Because she’s spitting mad at you. You’ve survived her twice, which is a blow to her pride, and _she’s_ survived _you_ twice, which is going to make her over confident. It’ll make luring her into a trap that much easier.”

“So I just need to piss her off as much as possible?” Phoebe asked, voice light and smile vicious. “I can do that.” She paused to think about it, because she knew exactly where to start, but she didn’t want to dive in without being sure she had all her bases covered. They couldn’t afford to mess up now. “I think I’m going to need a vampire or ten to act as assassins, and I hope you’re coming, Zankou?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Zankou confirmed.

“Okay. Talk to Carmilla, tell her to send a handful of her people out to kill anyone we know works for Leraikhe, even if they’re low-level messengers, and then come join us in Leraikhe’s lair.” Phoebe instructed.

“She won’t still be there.” Zankou pointed out, but he was pushing away from the table he’d been leaning against.

“She will be when I’m done.” Phoebe promised him. Zankou regarded her for a moment, then smirked, nodded, and strode off. Phoebe turned to Leo and Cole and grabbed both of them by the arm. “Let’s go.” The two looked at each other, and then Cole shrugged, and Leo orbed them all out.

They reappeared in the still ruined tunnel just outside Leraikhe’s lair, and Phoebe gave a little shiver of distaste. She didn’t let it stop her, though, and strode through the doors and into the antechamber of Leraikhe’s lair without hesitation. She made a beeline for the stairs that curved up and around to another door, and started to climb, Leo and Cole hot on her heels. The door was locked when Phoebe tried the handle, so she backed away and gestured Cole forwards.

Smirking, he obeyed, standing in front of the door and summoning up an energy-ball. He slammed it, point-blank, into the door, which glowed briefly with an intense red light. Then, with a noise like shattering glass, the glow vanished. The door was undamaged, but when Cole tried the handle again, it clicked and swung open without a problem. “She’ll have felt that.” Cole commented as he stepped through and looked around, another energy-ball in hand just in case.

“That’s the plan.” Phoebe confirmed with a vicious sort of cheer as she followed him. Cole glanced over his shoulder with a heated look of approval, but Phoebe didn’t respond past a smile. They were busy, after all.

Leraikhe’s lair was surprisingly homey. Phoebe would have expected something spartan like a personal armoury, or overly luxurious, like some sort of throne room. Instead, it looked like a vaguely gothic living room, a brocade loveseat and armchair clustered around a simple fireplace, with cabinets and bookshelves full of relics here and there around the walls. “Well, this isn’t quite what I was expecting.” Phoebe remarked, already moving forwards and running her hands over everything. She didn’t really need a premonition for her plan to work, but she would have been a fool not to try.

She saw a few glimpses of Leraikhe in the past, lounging on the loveseat, pacing in front of the fire, pulling a book off the bookshelf, but nothing that might help her with her plan. Shaking the visions away, she went to the middle of the room, and tossed out her first spell; “ _All things safe within this home, while their owner decides to roam, no longer is the sanctuary sound, and to their things this demon’s bound, to every piece is damage dealt, and through the bond it shall be felt._ ”

Wind whipped through the room like the claws of some massive beast, shredding the upholstery, ripping pages from their books, shattering glass, toppling ornaments. It even slammed through the doors tucked away between bookshelves and cabinets, and set to destroying the bedroom, study, and training room beyond. Phoebe imagined she could hear Leraikhe’s shriek of pain and rage, and smiled.

“Nicely done.” Cole complimented when the last little gusts had faded.

“Think she’ll be mad?” Phoebe asked innocently.

Cole laughed. “Just a little.” He mocked back. The humour faded from his face, and he tipped his head in rueful consideration. “Not mad enough to hunt you down, though, especially not if the Source has told her to stay put.”

“No, I know.” Phoebe assured him. “That was only step one.”

“Oh?”

Phoebe backed up a few steps, so that she was standing at the edge of the clear space, instead of in the middle of it, before she recited the old, and familiar spell, with only a few little tweaks; “ _Magic forces black and white, reaching out through shade and light, be she far or be she near, bring me the demon Leraikhe here._ ”

The expected whirlwind formed before her, whipping the magical fog into an obscuring vortex. Leo hastily got out of the way as it bloomed to life in the middle of the room. It crackled, the air around it shuddered, and then it collapsed, leaving nothing but empty space behind. “…You must have realised that if I can resist that spell, Leraikhe certainly can.” Cole pointed out, caught somewhere between derisive and sympathetic.

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting it to work.” Phoebe assured him. “I wouldn’t have complained if it did, but just imagine how _outraged_ she’s going to be, that I _dared_ to try and summon her.”

“Good point.” Cole acknowledged, amused. “What next?”

“Well, first I need to know that the vampires-” Phoebe began, and as if on cue, Zankou shimmered into Leraikhe’s lair with a small escort right behind him. A couple of vampires in bat form fluttered out of thin air and disappeared into the shadows of the roof, settling in to observe, Phoebe guessed. “-have been sent out.” She finished. “I take it the vampires have begun?” She checked with Zankou, just to be sure, although she was already moving to grab the supplies she would need.

He nodded, eyebrows raised. “It’ll take time for the news to get back to Leraikhe, though.”

“No, it won’t.” Phoebe assured him. She pulled out the token the vampires had stolen for her; a bracelet of woven leather, worn soft and supple and clearly a favoured accessory. She rolled it between her fingers, focusing her will on it, and its representation of Leraikhe’s identity. And then, to prove her point to Zankou, she recited her third spell; “ _This death of whom you claim as yours, you'll see and feel for you're the cause._ ”

It was really more of a curse, and from her brief lesson with the wizard, she knew that curses were better if they were limited in how much power they could drain. So she kept it to the singular, and waited until she felt the spell take hold, felt the drain on her magic. It was more than she expected, but it wasn’t debilitating, so she recited it again, and again, and again.

Just as she was wondering if she was going to have to figure out how to bait Leraikhe further, the number of demons in the room doubled. Phoebe didn’t wait to see if Leraikhe was among them, she just dove behind the couch. With only a crackle of forewarning, the back of the couch exploded as the lightning bolt hit it. “Phoebe!” Cole shouted.

“Keep them busy!” Phoebe shouted back, and lunged towards Leo, grabbing hold of him. “Just outside.” She whispered, and Leo obeyed without question, orbing them into the large ante-chamber of Leraikhe’s lair. Phoebe saw the dark lightning flash through the door, Leraikhe striding after, bow in hand, and dove for cover again.

“Is that all you've got, witch?” Leraikhe howled, vicious and triumphant. Phoebe looked up at her, standing atop the winding staircase and silhouetted against the flaring, flashing lights of the battle raging in her rooms behind her, and smirked.

“Not hardly.” She called back, taunting. “Why don't you come down here and find out what else I've got in store for you?”

Leraikhe scoffed, and lifted her bow. “I don't think so, when I can just as easily kill you from here.” Time seemed to slow to a crawl, every single one of Phoebe's senses fine-tuned and focused on Leraikhe. She drew, and black lightning crackled furiously to life along the line of her arm, and Phoebe waited, holding her breath as the seconds drew themselves out until they felt like hours.

With a twang, Leraikhe released, and the lightning seemed to flare with a corona of white around the jagged, flickering darkness as it launched from the string with a thunderclap. For once, Phoebe didn't run. She kept her feet planted and reached only for her magic as a defence, letting it fill her to the brim and spill out on her voice as she recited her last and most important spell; “ _The bow you hold always aims true, these words now turn its aim on you._ ”

There was a whining, screeching hiss as the lightning bolt seemed to collapse in on itself, it's brutally fast flight towards Phoebe halted in its tracks as Phoebe's will warred with Leraikhe's. She could see the moment the demon realised she'd lost her hold on the weapon's power. The dawning horror on her face was lit in the stark black-and-white light of her own lightning bolt as it raced back the way it had come.

The explosion was deafening, and threw Phoebe clear off her feet, even all the way down in the ante-chamber as she was. She crashed into the rock floor, loosing half the breath in her lungs just in time for the shockwave of heat to steal the rest. She wheezed for enough breath to laugh, rolling onto her side in the same moment that Leo dropped to his knees beside her. “Phoebe, are you alright?”

Phoebe just giggled helplessly, giddy with relief that her plan had actually worked. It had been their last, desperate hope to make her plan for the Source work, and she had been half convinced that Leraikhe would never show up, that her spell was too simple to stand up to such a powerful weapon, that any number of things could go wrong. But they hadn't.

“Thirteen down, one to go.” Phoebe said once her laughter had died and she had enough breath for words. Leo met her gaze, and nodded, expression hard and eyes blazing. He held out a hand to her, which Phoebe took, and he hauled her up. Once on her feet, Phoebe got a good look at what the explosion had done to the rest of the cavern. The doorway to Leraikhe’s rooms had been blown into a wide, gaping maw, the staircase had been half destroyed, rubble spilling down from where there used to be a sheer cliff-face, and Phoebe went cold right through when she remembered where Cole had been. “Cole?!”

There was a beat of terrifying, heart-stopping silence, and then, faint and ragged, but there, she heard Cole call “I’m fine!” It was a blatant lie, but he was alive, and everything else could be dealt with. Phoebe considered asking Leo to orb her inside the half collapsed cavern, and decided against it. Instead, she started clambering carefully up the steep slope of debris.

Half way up, she reached out for a hand hold, and caught the tip of something protruding from under the rock. Startled, Phoebe threw her weight against the larges of the boulders, and shoved it aside. Lying there, half upright and entirely undamaged from the explosion and the rockslide, was Leraikhe’s bow. The black surface of it was smooth and cool to the touch, and while the spikes along the length of both arms were sharp enough to draw blood, there was something oddly graceful about the sweeping curve of it. Carefully, Phoebe wriggled it free from the other rubble, and hefted it in her hands.

Then she turned, and wordlessly offered it to Leo. He stared at it, then glanced down at his crossbow. Smiling wryly, with gallows humour lingering in his eyes, he took the bow. “I don’t know if I have the strength to draw it.” He pointed out.

“It’s enchanted, I’m sure you’ll manage.” Phoebe pointed out.

“It’s _cursed_ , more likely.” Leo corrected, but he made no move to put the weapon down. Indeed, he was looking at it with something akin to relief, and Phoebe wasn’t exactly surprised. Darklighters might use all sorts of ranged weapons, but their preference was always for crossbows. Even such a little distinction as it being a _longbow_ must be a relief to Leo. He didn’t drop his crossbow, though, just in case.

They continued up the slope until they reached the peak, where it levelled out. The ceiling of the living room was mostly intact, but the floor was littered with rubble both from the walls and the furniture. There were no bodies, but then, Phoebe herself was the only one _guaranteed_ to leave a body behind when she died. She didn’t know what happened to whitelighters, but since they were technically dead mortals, she figured magic would clean up after itself with them just like it did with demons.

She found Cole leaning against a particularly jagged chunk of wall, scratches all over his face, and a burn on the outside of one arm. Zankou was sitting next to him, also a bit scratched and bloody, but grinning fiercely. “Sorry.” Phoebe apologised to them. “I had no idea it was going to explode like that, or I would have warned you.”

Zankou just laughed. Cole hauled himself to his feet, smiling through every wince, until he could cup Phoebe’s face in his hands. “Sorry? Don’t be _sorry_ , Phoebe, that was _glorious_. You did it!” He declared fiercely, and then kissed her.

Phoebe kissed him back with all the exhilaration, anticipation, and creeping nerves that were flooding through her. With Leraikhe dead, the last obstacle between her and the Source had been removed. This was it. All that was left was to kill the demon himself. She felt _alive_ with fury and fear and desperate hope.

And then she felt it. Like the memory of a warm hug in the back of her mind, Phoebe suddenly _knew_ that the anniversary had begun.

She broke the kiss with a gasp, staggering and nearly crying out at the feel of it. Because it felt like _them_. Like Prue and Piper and Phoebe, like the moment that never was, the three of them standing shoulder to shoulder on the lawn in front of their house, like the Power of Three. “It’s time.” She gasped out, voice thick. “It’s starting.”

Zankou was on his feet in a heartbeat. “Go.” He ordered, and Phoebe nodded.

Cole shimmered them out, and took them to the wide cavern they’d picked out as their battleground. It had a large open space in the center, large enough for the heavy stone altar Cole had shimmered in, while still leaving plenty of open, flat ground for the inevitable conflict. The edges of the cave were scattered with large outcroppings of rock, great mounds of dark stone that could be used as cover, if they ended up needing it.

Leo orbed in right behind them, and nodded to Phoebe before going to take his place at one point of the triquetra Phoebe had painstakingly carved into the floor. The narrow groves were filled with her blood, Charmed blood, and the altar at its heart held three candles; two black and one red. Two for the dead, and one for the living. In the center of the triangle formed by the candles was a bowl, again filled with Phoebe’s blood, but this pool had wormwood and cedar and lavender mixed in, because it was no longer just Phoebe’s blood. It was a summoning and an offering all in one. It was _their_ blood, the blood they shared, and so she had added cedar to call them back from death, wormwood to give them strength and power even in death, and lavender, to offer them peace once this ritual was done.

Zankou had gone to great lengths to supply Phoebe with the things she wanted for this altar, and she was honestly more grateful for his respect than she could put into words. This was the only funeral altar she could bring herself to make for her sisters, and it would have killed her to half-ass it. There were white candles, small but plentiful, all around the edge of the altar, twenty-seven in total. Three to the power of three. In between them she’d woven fresh sprigs of bay and holly, and she hadn’t asked where Zankou had gotten them, or what he’d had to do to get them.

The frankincense, at least, was easy to come by in the Underworld, and she watched as Cole went and lit the sticks waiting in between the three candles and at five equidistant points around the perimeter of the cave. The scent permeated the cave, and Phoebe breathed it in, centering herself and drawing her focus inwards while Cole set to work lighting the thirty candles, first the white, and then the two black, and finally the red. Phoebe focused on the little flame for a moment, acknowledging it as a representation of her self, her soul; _believing_ it. Then she checked that she was ready for battle, with her one remaining glove, her greaves, her many potions, and all her assorted athames. The one given to her by Astaroth she drew, and held ready in one hand. Cole gave her free hand a squeeze of reassurance, and then he, too, took his place.

Phoebe took one more look at the altar, gave herself a count of nine seconds to let the grief well up, the ache she’d been doing her best to ignore for the last four months, and just _hurt_ over the fact that her sisters were _gone_ and she was the last. Then she breathed it out, and breathed in her wrath and rage, her determination, her steadfast faith. She turned her back on the altar and took her place at the last point on the triquetra, facing the open cavern and settling in to wait for the Source to take the bait.

“ _Hear now the words of the witches,  
The secrets we hid in the night…_ ”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, here were are, folks. Only the epilogue to go after this.
> 
> As I said at the beginning, I do have sequels planned, but I honestly have no idea when or if I might write them. If you're curious about what happens next and can't bear to live in suspense, feel free to drop me an ask over on tumblr; I'm setaripendragon over there. Either way, thank you for all your lovely comments, and I hope you enjoy this finale <3
> 
> (PS: You have no idea how proud I am of the vanquishing spell in this chapter. Three _weeks_ I spent on that damned poem. I never want to see another iambic pentameter again -dies-)

Phoebe didn’t know how much time passed before the Source arrived. It was long enough that she lost track of how often she’d repeated the Dominus Trinus spell, but not so long that she felt the power of the Charmed anniversary waning. Hours, probably, but time was always difficult to predict in the Underworld.

One moment the cavern before her was empty, and the next, the Source had appeared in a rush of searing flame. The heat of it washed over her, and Phoebe let her voice die, let the last syllable hang in the air as she faced off against him. He looked the same as ever, an ominous figure cloaked and hooded in black, only clawed hands visible.

Twin columns of flame erupted behind him, and out of them stepped two more demons. One Phoebe recognised, as Astaroth gave her a smile and a flirty wave, but the other was new to her. He was a tall, broad man with dark skin and pale eyes that reflected the light like a cat’s. He was dressed in gleaming golden armour, and the muscles in his arms bugled as he crossed them over his breastplate. It was an intimidating picture; the black-cloaked shadow, the blood-red trickster, and the gold-clad warrior.

“Shit.” Leo swore quietly, but not quietly enough.

The Source laughed. Phoebe shuddered at the sound, a sick sort of rage clawing up from her guts, setting all her insides writhing. “You didn’t think I would come alone, did you?” He asked, and Phoebe was certain he was sneering at them from under his hood.

Phoebe stared at him for a moment, then looked over at the demons she assumed had to be Bael. He certainly looked like a general that could lead the entire Underworld. He stared back, entirely blank-faced and unimpressed by all the posturing. Finally, she looked at Astaroth, who winked at her. Abruptly, Phoebe decided the time for hedging her bets was over. If Astaroth didn’t back her up now, once she’d killed the Source, she would make the she-demon her next project.

She made sure that showed in her eyes as she smiled, and she didn’t look away from Astaroth as she asked the Source; “You didn’t think _we_ would come alone, did you?”

The Source scoffed. “This cavern has been sealed off already. Any reinforcements you might have prepared will not be able to reach you now.” He informed her, like Phoebe didn’t _know_ he’d have done something like that, with several days to prepare to step into what was obviously going to be a trap. Phoebe didn’t look at him, just kept watching Astaroth as the demon sighed with perfect melodrama, shrugged her cloak off with a graceful roll of her shoulders, and then promptly exploded in a blaze of light and heat and fury.

Unfortunately, Bael moved in the same moment that Astaroth did, and placed himself between her and the Source. He raised his arms, fists clenched, and crossed them at the wrist in front of his face, and the energy blast was stopped in its tracks as the Source whirled to stare. “Astaroth! How dare you?!”

“Sorry, honey.” Astaroth replied, letting the energy blast die, and disappearing with it. She reappeared behind the Source, and launched a fireball at his head, which he batted out of the air as he spun to face her with a snarl. “I know when to abandon a ship before it goes down. I’ve weighed the odds, and you just don’t cut it.” She informed him as she levelled her palm at his face and a small supernova went off in the air between them.

The Source was flung off his feet, but Bael, standing behind him, had ducked as he went flying, and lunged at Astaroth like a battering ram. Phoebe left her to that fight, and ran over to where the Source was picking himself up, hood knocked askew. She hurled a potion as she ran, but it exploded mostly harmlessly against the Source’s cloak. He hurled a fireball at her that she ducked, and then she was close enough to spin into a roundhouse kick that didn’t connect, and when she spun back to face him again, the Source was right inside her personal space.

He caught her by the throat, and Phoebe punched him in the chin with her gloved hand. His hand convulsed around her throat, blacking out her vision for a moment with agony, before he released her and staggered back. Phoebe forced herself to move before she could quite see straight, lashing out with her athame, but the Source avoided the attack, and then shoved an explosion right at her face. Phoebe was forced to drop to the ground, and she knew she was leaving herself wide open, but then there was a crackle of lightning and a dark flash, and Phoebe had the time to roll backwards and leap to her feet. The Source had one hand up in a clawed gesture, around the tip of an arrow made of pure dark lightning, while the other hand slashed through the air, summoning up a shockwave to blast Belthazor off his feet before he could throw the energy ball in his hand.

Phoebe rushed to take advantage of the opening, but the Source twisted, and dragged the lightning bolt out of the air to slam it into the ground a heartbeat before Phoebe’s foot landed there. The explosion flung her through the air, and Phoebe hit the ground at the base of her altar, half way across the cave. Agony lanced up her leg, and she swore, shoving up on one elbow to put her hand against ugly bump where the force had broken the bone.

“ _A broken bone will stall the fight, I summon a splint to aid my plight._ ” Phoebe recited in a rush, and to her mild surprise, it worked. Out of nothing, tight wraps sprang into being, binding her broken leg tightly. It hurt like a son of a bitch while it was happening, but once it was done, Phoebe found she could actually put her weight on it without collapsing. Just in time, as the Source used a shockwave to hurl Belthazor backwards, and send a stream of fire directly at Phoebe.

She ducked, and only then remembered that her altar was right behind her. She looked over her shoulder, panic hurling her heart up into her throat, but the altar was unharmed. Smoke drifted vaguely upwards away from the candles, which were flickering slightly, as if under a gentle breeze. Phoebe choked on a laugh. “Thanks, sis.” She breathed, and then turned back to face the Source.

He was being harassed by Belthazor and Leo, who had resorted to using his back-up weapon, despite how much he obviously didn’t like using the crossbow. Astaroth appeared beside Phoebe for a moment, looking a little wind-swept, but still smiling away like she was having the time of her life. “Do hurry it up, darling. I thought you had a _plan_.” She breathed, holding up a hand to deflect an explosion from Bael. The effort made her eyes glow amber-red.

“I do.” Phoebe spat back, hurling a potion over Astaroth’s head. The explosion knocked Bael back a step, and Astaroth followed up with a small tidal wave of fire that seemed to hit the other demon like a physical force. “But I need his blood for the spell to work.” Phoebe explained, holding up the athame in her hand pointedly.

“Oh, you kept it!” Astaroth exclaimed, delighted. She grabbed hold of Phoebe and in a swirling rush of flames, they reappeared right behind Bael. Phoebe kicked out on instinct, and caught him a glancing blow to his arm, but the shockwave from her greaves was enough to send him to his knees. He managed to duck out of the way of Astaroth’s next attack, but he was staggering and off balance, so Astaroth took the opportunity to flame them out again. “He overcompensates for his blind side, so stay to the left.” She whispered, and then they were re-materialising, right behind the Source.

Then Astaroth was gone again, and the Source was turning, towards his right side, just like Astaroth had said, so Phoebe darted in and left, athame leading. The blade caught in fabric at the same moment that flames erupted in front of her, and Phoebe yanked her arm out of the fire with a yelp. She stumbled backwards as the Source rounded on her with his teeth bared in an expression that could only loosely be called a grin. “Nice try, _witch_.” He spat.

Belthazor tackled Phoebe out of the way of the explosion-ball the Source hurled at her, and shimmered them both away before they hit the ground. They reappeared behind the altar, and Phoebe hissed over her burned arm. “You need to be more careful.” Belthazor snarled in her ear, his red, clawed hand closing over her arm just above the burn on her wrist.

“What I _need_ is his blood.” Phoebe countered. “The spell won’t work without it.”

Belthazor growled low in his throat, but then shimmered back into the middle of the fight, taking Phoebe with him. They appeared just in time to see Leo dive out of the way of a fire-ball, only to throw himself into the path of another. Belthazor hurled an energy-ball to intercept, while Phoebe flung herself at the Source. He turned on her, and sent a spray of explosion-balls towards her. No matter which way she dodged, she’d still be in the path of one of them, so instead, she called up her power and leapt into the air. The Source clearly hadn’t been expecting that, so when Phoebe used her momentum to swing a vicious kick at his head, it connected, and the shockwave from her greaves sent him flying.

Phoebe dropped back to the ground and bolted after him, athame at the ready, but she hadn’t anticipated that the Source had ploughed right into Bael and Astaroth’s fight, and when he saw her coming, Bael conjured up a pillar of fire that left a scorched trail across the ground as it swept between her and the Source. Then Astaroth was there, and she reached into the fire with her bare hands, wrenching it off course. “Tick-tock tick-tock, darling.” She sing-songed, as Bael conjured a flaming sword out of thin air and charged at them.

“On it.” Phoebe gritted out, diving around her. “Thanks.” She added breathlessly, and then she was face-to-face with an enraged Source who was far closer than she’d realised. He thrust out a hand and dug his claws into her throat before she could change her momentum enough to dodge.

But that meant he was within cutting distance.

She drove her athame up towards his arm, but his other hand knocked the blade aside carelessly. “No matter how much you struggle and fight, this end is inevitable.” The Source told her, gloating now that he had her apparently pinned. She couldn’t get enough leverage to wrench away from him, but she was a witch, she didn’t need physical leverage. “I will kill you, as I had your sisters killed, and finally, your pestilential line will-”

Fury lent Phoebe power, and she used her power to fling herself upwards as fast as she could. The Source’s claws tore at the skin of her neck, but it was a price worth paying for the outraged, pained yelp he let out as his arm was wrenched up and back. Phoebe dropped down behind him, and drove an elbow into his side as she spun to face him. Her neck was agony, but she could still breathe, so she didn’t worry too much.

The Source didn’t even stagger at the blow, but it distracted him enough for Phoebe to find her footing and stab her athame towards his face. He swayed out of the way, and for a heartbeat, Phoebe could see the fight raging behind him. It thoroughly distracted her, because Leo had apparently forgone sanity, and had leapt onto Bael’s back to get him in a choke-hold. Astaroth was hassling Bael as best she could without hitting Leo, and Belthazor caught Phoebe’s eye and shimmered out.

He reappeared beside her, just in time to take a clawed hand to the gut. A clawed hand that was also on fire. He roared in agony, and swung an arm out in retaliation, backhanding the Source square in the face and sending the other demon staggering even as Belthazor collapsed to his knees. “Cole!” Phoebe gasped, ice flooding her. “Are you-”

“I’ll live.” Belthazor grunted, hands covering the wound. “Get him.” He added viciously. Fury followed quickly on the heels of her horror, and Phoebe nodded once before stepping forwards to meet the Source in battle again.

“Insolent dog!” The Source howled, pink-faced with fury, or maybe just from the slap. “I will see you all burn!” He hissed, raising a hand. Before he could launch his next attack, however, there was a sudden shout as Leo charged across the cavern, burning sword in hand, to swing it with all his might at the Source’s neck. He intercepted it with his upraised hand, sneer firmly in place as he turned towards Leo. “Did you really think that would work?” He snarled, and with a flare of power, the flames limning the sword went out, leaving his pale hand wrapped around plain steel. “The weapons of the damned are _mine_ to command!”

Leo’s furious glower morphed into a triumphant smirk. “Not entirely.” He retorted, and orbed out. The Source, whipped around, searching for him, but he hadn’t gone far. He reappeared beside Phoebe, and offered the sword to her, hilt first. “I’ll take care of Cole, you just end him. For Piper.” He half-requested, half-ordered.

Phoebe looked down at the blade, plain steel marred only by a thin line of black blood, and grinned as she took it. “For Prue and Piper.” She agreed, and Leo nodded back, before orbing them both out of the way of the Source’s next attack, and then orbing away again to return to Cole. Phoebe realised he’d brought her back to the altar, and she took half a heartbeat to center herself in the symbolism she’d built, before she raised the blooded blade before her, and began the spell;

 _“I hold in my blood the Power of Three,_  
Prudence and Piper they live within me.  
Daughter to Mother right back to the start,  
Our Matriarch's blood still beats in my heart.  
All Warren witches who lived throughout time,  
Lend me your power to shape in this rhyme.”

Wind whipped into being around Phoebe, around the altar, almost drowning out the Source’s howl of defiance and rage. He hurled a massive stream of fire at Phoebe, but then Astaroth was there, deflecting the attack. She glanced over her shoulder and winked at Phoebe, who smirked back. Then she looked passed her, and fixed her gaze on the Source. Magical power crackled through the air between them, an unseen storm whipping through the cavern as it waited for Phoebe to give it direction. The spirit of the entire Warren line, from Melinda right down to Prue and Piper and Phoebe, waiting for the words that would give it purpose;

 _“It's said that evil all comes from one source,_  
Destiny calls us to vanquish that force.  
His name once obscured now brought into light,  
By Dagon he's known to those with the sight.  
That beacon of self will focus the aim,  
Upon each aspect within his true name.”

The Source’s one good eye widened, a true terror overcoming his rage as he realised that Phoebe meant it this time. This was no half-assed attempt to kill him. She had prepared, she had crafted her spell using every symbolic trick of rhyme and rhythm to pack every last ounce of power into it that she could, she had built her altar with care, every element designed to enhance the powers she was calling on.

He tried to flame out, but he couldn’t. Phoebe couldn’t stop the surge of vicious, vindictive triumph she felt at that. The pride and satisfaction and petty vengeance. Let him know what it was to be trapped, to be bound in a place that wanted oh, so desperately to kill him. Let him be the powerless one for once, because Phoebe had him now. He was bound by his own name, invoked in this place of power, this place of the dead, most of whom he’d had a personal hand in murdering.

When he realised fleeing wouldn’t work, he redoubled his attack, his desperation lending him enough of an edge to drive Astaroth into retreating, leaving the way open to Phoebe. But when he hurled a tidal wave of flames at her, the attack parted around her, blocked in a neat circle around the altar. For a moment, out of the corner of her eye, Phoebe thought she saw figures, nothing more than contours in the air, of women standing hand-in-hand in a ring around her. Tears stung her eyes, because she knew – she _knew_ – that the two before her, the two protecting her directly from the Source’s desperate attacks, were her sisters. And beside them, surely, must be Mom, and Grams. Her voice shook with emotion, but her words were strong, as she finished the most important spell she’d ever created;

_“By blood on my blade and blood in my veins,  
Grant me the power to bind him in chains.”_

The Source staggered, caught by her power, and though he struggled to free himself, invisible forces held him immobile and powerless.

_“His fear I shall use to anchor this spell,  
It's grip on his heart will drag him to hell.”_

Flames erupted at his feet, burning so hot and fierce they were white, with surges of brilliant blue flaring through them as they licked their way up the Source’s robes towards his terror-stricken face.

_“No power or crown can shield him from this,  
Let death draw him down into the abyss.”_

A chasm opened up underneath him, and his entire form appeared to dissolve into ash and drift down into the darkness, his howls still echoing even when his chin, and then his mouth, and then his eye, and then the very last of him dissipated into so much dust and swirled down into the earth.

The ground shuddered closed, the wind died with one last gentle caress of Phoebe’s cheeks, and silence reigned. Twenty-nine of her thirty candles went out as the last of the magical wind died, leaving only Phoebe’s red candle aglow. Feeling suddenly shaky in the aftermath of channelling the power of maybe a dozen generations of the strongest white witches, Phoebe leaned over the edge of the altar, cupped her free and trembling hand around the back of the small flame, and blew it out.

“You did it.”

Phoebe turned to find Cole right behind her, looking dazed with relief. He pulled her into a hug in the same moment she practically collapsed into his arms. “Are you okay?” She asked, but Cole only laughed in response, like it was a ludicrous question, like she hadn’t watched the Source stick his entire hand into Cole’s guts a few minutes ago. So instead she looked over his shoulder at Leo. “Is he okay?”

Leo stared at her for a long, long moment, then blinked as the question registered, and nodded, gaze drifting towards Cole’s abdomen. “He’ll be fine as long as he doesn’t tear anything by moving around too much. The wound was cauterised as it was made, so he didn’t loose any blood. It’s a good thing we don’t need to eat down here though, or he’d be at serious risk of an infection.” Phoebe frowned at him, worried by how hollow and dead his voice sounded, like he was reciting from a script.

“Are _you_ okay?” Phoebe asked.

Leo dragged his eyes back up to hers, and Phoebe sucked in a sharp breath at just how empty they were. “No.” He said finally. Phoebe frowned at him in concern, and he read her questions off her face. He shrugged, gaze now on the sword still held loosely in Phoebe’s hand. “We won, the Source is gone, and Piper’s still dead.” His face twisted into something ugly and bitter and angry. “Am I suddenly supposed to be _okay_?” He demanded, and then flinched from his own words.

Phoebe tried to think of something to say, but there was nothing. Her own grief was muted by the knowledge that she still had a connection to her sisters, that they were still _there_ , in some undefinable form, part-memory and part-spirit and still with her, despite it all. Realisation struck, and Phoebe tentatively tried to sound that out into something that could be carried in words. “She is still dead.” She agreed, and Leo winced and looked at her like she’d just gutted him. “And we still love her, and remember her, and _know_ her. Death can’t erase history. She was still there, which means she _is_ still there.”

Leo sighed, and wouldn’t meet her gaze. “That’s a nice way to think about it, I suppose.” He agreed listlessly. Phoebe figured that was the best she was going to get.

“Let’s-” Phoebe stopped herself before she could say ‘go home,’ because she wasn’t even quite sure what she meant by that. “Do you think we’ll be able to get out of the Underworld now?” She asked, mainly directing the question at Cole, who shrugged.

“Only one way to find out.” He offered. Phoebe dropped the sword and held out a hand to Leo, because she wasn’t about to try this without him and accidentally leave him behind if it _did_ work. It took him a long moment to reach out and accept it, but he did, so Phoebe counted it as a win. Then Cole shimmered out…

And crashed back into a dusty cavern floor with a groan of pain. Phoebe hauled herself off him, hands fluttering at the edges of his wound in worry. “Leo?” She called, and he batted her away to inspect the wound.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Cole rasped.

“Stay _still_ , or you won’t be.” Leo ordered, and somehow the complete lack of emotion in his voice was more effective than the most viciously angry order. Cole lay still, looking disgruntled but just a little bit cowed.

Phoebe wound up knelt beside him, beginning to feel her outrage and fear and fury come flooding back. Because they were supposed to have _won_ , and winning meant they could go home and start piecing their lives back together. The Source was gone and his stupid seal should have gone with him. “Why didn’t that work?” She demanded.

“Because there’s no Source to remove the seal?”

Phoebe’s head whipped up and she stared at Astaroth, feeling disbelief curdle in her gut like sour milk. The demon was leaning her hip against the side of the altar, arms folded and ever-present smirk firmly in place. “What?” Phoebe asked, desperately hoping she’d just heard wrong.

“The seal can only be activated or removed by the anointed ruler of the Underworld; the Source of All Evil.” Astaroth explained patiently. “Until there’s a new one who’s actually willing to lift it, we’re all just as stuck down here as we were yesterday. Sorry, darling, but if you want to get home, you’re going to have to wait out the civil war first.” She paused, and looked over her shoulder. “Isn’t that right, Bael?” She asked sweetly.

Phoebe startled, and leaned over to look around the altar. Sure enough, Bael was still standing there, looking solemn and determined. “I will not see the throne fall into the hands of a demon like _you_.” He concurred, shooting a hard look at Astaroth.

“Or Zankou, right?” Astaroth chirped wickedly. Bael scowled reflexively, and Astaroth laughed delightedly. “Oh, this is going to be so much _fun_. Race you to the throne room!” She called to Bael, and flamed out. The other demons’ eyes widened in outrage, and he followed her in a whirl of flames.

“Civil war?” Phoebe echoed dumbly.

“Of course.” Cole confirmed. “Why do you think Zankou has been amassing an army when he knew numbers wouldn’t be enough to overwhelm the Source?”

Phoebe shook her head instead of answering, and looked across at Leo. He looked back impassively, waiting, she supposed, for her to make up her mind about what to do next. “Let’s… let’s go back to our lair – not our headquarters – and get some sleep, and worry about this tomorrow.”

“You should let me look at your throat before you sleep.” Leo added dully.

Phoebe’s hands leapt to her throat, and her fingertips met the tacky streams of half-dried blood that had dripped down her front from the claw-wounds the Source had left there. “And I burned my arm.” She added. “And I think I broke my leg.”

 _That_ brought life back to Leo’s features. He and Cole both shouted “Phoebe!” in unison, and Phoebe smiled wearily, entirely unapologetic. Leo reached out to grab both of them with a scowl settling across his brow like a thunderstorm. “You’re both on strict bed rest _forever_.” Leo commanded, before orbing them back to their blocked off and blood-warded cave with its river and its forest of stalagmites, where, Phoebe hoped, they’d be able to recuperate in peace until they felt ready to face the next the challenge the Underworld had to throw at them.


	23. Epilogue

The Manor was far too big for one man to live in alone, but Victor didn’t care. What else was he going to do? Not only was it his daughters’ home, the house they’d grown up in, lived in most of their lives, but he knew it had been special to them, too. Some kind of witchy thing, so he didn’t really understand, but Phoebe had mentioned it a few times. So he stayed, because they’d left the house to him in their wills, and there was no point leaving the place empty.

Darryl had tried to convince him to leave, a couple of times, but he’d never pushed the issue once Victor had shut him down, either. He’d been a good friend, these last four months. Four months. It hardly felt real, even after so long. It still felt like just a few days ago he’d opened his door to find the police standing there, apologising for bringing him bad news, but two of his daughters were dead, and the third was missing, and by the way, did he know where she was?

It made him sick just to think about. He pushed his carton of Chinese take-out away, unable to stomach anymore as his thoughts turned, yet again, to the man-hunt currently in progress for his youngest daughter, his baby girl. He wished, not for the first time and probably not for the last, that he could tell them what must have really happened. If Phoebe was missing, it was because whatever had killed her hadn’t been a mortal weapon.

Victor buried his face in his hands as sobs shook him, barely feeling the scratch of his beard against his palms past the ache in his chest. It came in waves, the grief. Sometimes he could go weeks without feeling more than a hollow ache, and sometimes, if he had enough to distract himself, the manic need to do _something_ could overwhelm everything else. But it always came back, when he was sitting alone in the evenings, the house in shadow because he couldn’t be bothered to get up and turn a light on. It would always come back, and he’d be left to cry on his own in a mausoleum of a house that was meant for three vivacious, enthusiastic sisters, not their lonely, bitter old man.

The chime of the doorbell interrupted Victor’s mourning, and in the aching quiet that followed, Victor seriously considered not getting up to answer it. He wasn’t interested in visitors or well-wishers. He wasn’t interested in their pity, or their condolences, or their thinly-veiled suspicion. He couldn’t stand the way that people would carefully side-step any mention of Phoebe, the way they said ‘your daughters’ and meant _Prue and Piper but not Phoebe_ , like just because half the world was convinced she’d-

The doorbell rang again, and Victor sighed heavily to himself. Chances were, it was Darryl, bringing round another casserole his wife had made, because they knew Victor had zero motivation left over for looking after himself, and three-day-old Chinese take-out had swiftly become a diet staple. And Darryl would not be deterred if Victor refused to open the door. He’d warned him on more than one occasion that he would bust the door down before he’d just walk away.

Hauling himself up, Victor dragged himself out into the hall, trying not to remember his daughters. The time that Prue had slid a ring across a table with nothing more than a look to protect him. The time Piper had gotten married, had walked through those doors like a force of nature because the whole world and everything in it had tried to stop her, and she refused to let it. All the times Phoebe had answered the door to him and hugged him right off the bat, no hesitation and no resentment, just easy and open acceptance that made him feel like a complete heel for staying away so long, even as it warmed him through.

Opening the door from the wrong side, Victor was startled out of his thoughts when he realised it wasn’t Darryl on the other side, but a complete stranger. He was a fairly handsome young man, Victor supposed, with fashionably long hair and a very sharp suit. Victor was a successful businessman – or had been – and he knew a well-tailored suit when he saw one. If he’d paid less than three grand for that suit, Victor would be surprised.

He’d been studying the over-grown garden when Victor opened the door, hands tucked behind his back in a comfortable stance that said he would have waited on the doorstep, ringing the bell, for as long as it took for Victor to answer. But on hearing the door open, he turned and offered Victor a charmingly bland smile and held out a hand. “Would you be a Mr Victor Bennett?” He asked politely.

Victor scowled, and did not shake the offered hand. There was no reason he could think of for anyone to want to discuss business with him right now, and especially not at nearly eight o’clock in the evening, long after normal business hours were over. “That would be me.” He confirmed warily, and made sure his body was filling the gap between the open door and the closed half, just in case the man tried to politely bulldoze his way in. “And you are?”

But he didn’t. He just inclined his head and lowered his hand when he realised Victor wasn’t going to shake it. “Rowan.” The man replied simply, not deigning to offer a last name with that.

“And what do you want, Rowan?” Victor asked belligerently.

“I was asked to deliver a message to you.” Rowan informed him, and Victor’s first thought to that ominous sounding remark was a slightly ridiculous ‘mafia?!’. But then he remembered Cole, and how Phoebe had told him he’d posed as a lawyer, how easy it was for demons to infiltrate jobs like that, with the right suit and the right car and the right attitude.

“Oh?” He gritted out, fingers clenching around the wood of the door. It wasn’t as if there was anything he could do if Rowan _was_ some sort of demon. He was mortal – pathetically, uselessly mortal – and if a demon had come here to threaten him, well, he’d probably have to resign himself to dying futilely. “And what sort of message would that be?”

Rowan frowned a little and reached into his inner breast pocket to pull out an envelope. In the amber glow of the porch light, the paper looked to be of very expensive stock, faintly textured and more cream-coloured than white. Rowan held it out to him, patient and unthreatening, waiting for Victor to take it, so after a moment, he did. Rowan tucked his hands behind his back, but showed no sign of leaving while Victor peered down at the name scrawled across the front and nearly had a heart attack.

It was Phoebe’s handwriting. Maybe, probably. He hadn’t seen that much of it in the last year or so, just the occasional jotted note here and there, but it was just as loopy as he thought it should be, and he’d been so amused that she still dotted her ‘i’s with little bubbles like she had when she was first learning to write.

Hand suddenly shaking almost too hard to hold the letter, Victor flipped the envelope, and nearly dropped it when he saw that the wax seal holding it closed was the same symbol that was embossed onto the front of their magic book, which was still safely stowed in the attic. He’d been right. This had to be from Phoebe. Who else would seal a letter with _that_ symbol? He felt dizzy, his heart pounding far too fast in his chest and his breath fluttering rapidly through his lungs without seeming to deliver any oxygen to his system at all.

“Perhaps you should sit down?” Rowan offered, breaking him out of his shocked paralysis. Nodding dazedly, Victor backed away from the door and started back towards the dinning room, only to realise that he heard no sound of following footsteps or the door being closed behind him.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw Rowan still standing patiently on the doorstep. “Aren’t you coming in?” Victor asked, a little confused. Because he would have expected him to either follow Victor, or leave, but he showed no sign of doing either.

“If I would be allowed?” Rowan asked, mildly challenging as he took a tentative step forwards.

“Sure, whatever. Come on in.” Victor offered, with a roll of his eyes. Rowan smiled and stepped inside, closing the door behind him and following when Victor changed course and headed for the living room instead. He dropped down onto the couch in front of the fire and cracked the seal before he could even begin to hesitate.

He pulled out a wad of papers, three thick and folded in half all together, and set the envelope aside with more care than he usually ever showed envelopes. His heart lurched into his throat as he flipped the letter open and saw the first page covered in Phoebe’s familiar – not familiar enough – bubbly script.

> _Hey Dad,_
> 
> _I’m alive._

Victor had to stop reading after the first damn line so that he could cover his mouth and sob with the awful, tearing relief that flooded through him. Of course, he’d hoped that’s what it meant when a stranger turned up on the doorstep with a letter addressed in Phoebe’s handwriting, but there had always been the possibility that it had been written _before_ , and delivery had been delayed for some reason. But no. No, Phoebe was alive.

He wasn’t even ashamed of the way he broke down into tears at the news. He didn’t care that Rowan was still standing, a little stiff and awkward, by the window, watching the whole production. His daughter was _alive_. He wasn’t sure how long his little crying jag lasted, but when he trailed off into hiccuping laughter, Rowan approached and held out an honest to god handkerchief.

Victor snorted his way into more laughter even as he accepted the offered hankie and started mopping up his face. “Thanks.” He rasped out, and then looked at the hankie, debating whether it would be more rude to hand it back or not. Rowan seemed to understand his dilemma, because he held a hand up to ward Victor off. Victor tucked the hankie into his own pocket and went back to the letter.

> _Hey Dad,_
> 
> _I’m alive._
> 
> _I promise, I’m alive, and well, and I’m not dying_  
>  _any time soon. I’m so sorry it took me so long to get this_  
>  _message to you, and I’m sorry that it’s all I can manage._  
>  _I don’t know when I’ll be able to get back, but I’m ~~tryi  
>  ~~ trying. I swear, I’m trying._
> 
> _I don’t know where to start, or what to say, or how_  
>  _to explain. I don’t know what you’ve been thinking these_  
>  _last months, except that you probably assumed I was_  
>  _dead, ~~too~~. I’m not, I’ve just been trapped in the ~~Under  
>  ~~ Underworld with Leo and Cole. That’s why none of us_  
>  _were there to help protect ~~Pip~~ them or heal them or_  
>  _anything. The Source of All Evil did something to shut_  
>  _the Underworld off from the mortal world entirely, so_  
>  _now we’re trapped here._
> 
> _The vampires can get through ~~it someh~~ the wards_  
>  _somehow. The wizards say it’s something about them_  
>  _having no reflection, but I don’t understand the ~~met~~_  
>  _metaphysics of it. I’ve only recently allied with them, so_  
>  _that’s why this letter is only coming now. Before this, I_  
>  _thought there was no way out. They’ve offered to turn_  
>  _me, so I could get out, and if I can’t find another way, I_  
>  _might take them up on it._

Victor closed his eyes as he reached the bottom of the first page, and took a moment to let the facts sink in. The idea of Phoebe in the Underworld made him break out in a cold sweat, but Phoebe had been down there for months, and she was still well enough to write to reassure him, so he had to have faith that she could handle herself. She had Leo and Cole with her, too, which was a relief. No doubt Leo was a wreck, Victor thought with an almost startling surge of empathy, but he’d seen first hand how vicious Cole could get in defence of Phoebe, so hearing that he was around was very good news.

He eyed the last paragraph, not liking some of the implications in Phoebe’s word choices, and then looked up at Rowan. “So you’re a vampire, then?” He asked, not quite wary, since Phoebe had said the vampires were friends, but a little bit guarded, perhaps.

Rowan pretended not to notice it. He just nodded and asked; “She mentioned us?” in a pleasantly surprised tone of voice.

“Mm.” Victor confirmed, looking back at the letter and tucking the first page behind the others. “If you turn my little girl into a vampire, I _will_ figure out how to kill you and make it stick.” He warned the man without looking up, tone perfectly conversational.

“I shall inform Her Majesty and Miss Halliwell of your opinion.” Rowan conceded graciously.

Although without, Victor noticed with a hint of dry amusement, actually making any promises to bow to Victor’s wishes. Shaking his head, he decided that Rowan had gotten his warning, and if he didn’t heed it, that was his problem, and went back to the letter.

> _I suppose I ought to explain the ‘allied’ comment,_  
>  _too, huh?_
> 
> _I’m going to kill the Source. I’ve spent the last_  
>  _three months working to that end non-stop, and I won’t_  
>  _rest until I watch him burn with my own two eyes. I_  
>  _don’t know if I’m supposed to feel bad about that or not._  
>  _Revenge is supposed to be a bad thing, right? They always_  
>  _tell you it doesn’t fix anything, but it’s not about fixing_  
>  _it. It’s about the fact that ~~I don’t have~~ I’m not going to_  
>  _let that monster breathe the air that he denied to Prue_  
>  _and Piper._
> 
> _Do you understand? ~~Everyone always said I’m most  
>  like you, so I hope that you ~~ Anyway. I know you always_  
>  _hated what being witches meant for us, and I’m sorry._  
>  _I’m so sorry, Dad. I want to say we should have listened_  
>  _to you. I wish we’d listened to you. If we had, then maybe_  
>  _But even now, I don’t think I could deny my magic, not_  
>  _even if it would get me out of here right this instant._  
>  _It’s my only weapon against the Source, and I won’t give_  
>  _that up._
> 
> _I promise, I’m keeping as safe as I can. Cole is with_  
>  _me, and he wouldn’t let me get hurt for anything. Leo’s_  
>  _with me, too, and I know I don’t need to tell you how_  
>  _hard he’s taking this, but he’s keeping going. For me, I_  
>  _think. He’s a guide, a protector, right down to his bones,_

There was a strangled scream caught in Victor’s throat, and he paused to scrub a hand through his too-long, greasy hair, uncaring in his frustration. “I’m safe, she says.” He growled to himself. “Just trying to single-handedly kill the most powerful demon. Yes, that’s totally safe. Fuck’s sake, Phoebe.”

“Not single-handed.” Rowan interjected in a tone of mild reproach. “Her Majesty is, I think, quite fond of Miss Halliwell, in her way. She is not fighting this war alone, I assure you.”

“It is a war, then.” Victor retorted, voice hard and bitter. “I don’t give a damn if God himself has promised to help her, she’s my _daughter_ , my-” His voice hitched, but he ploughed on through the pain. “-my _only surviving daughter_ , damn it, and she’s fighting in a god damned _war_ , and I’m stuck up here, _useless_!” He thumped his fist against the arm of the couch, and gritted his teeth against the rest of the rant that wanted to spill out. “I should be with her- I should-”

But he couldn’t, because he was mortal. Mortal and never, ever there when they needed him. He’d missed so much of their lives, so many memories that he could have made, so much time he could have had with them, and now he would never get the chance to make more memories with Prudence and Piper, and there was every chance that Phoebe would follow them all too soon.

Pushing away the grief that was threatening to overwhelm him, Victor turned his eyes to the final page. This one was only half a page of writing, just the last half of the paragraph from page two, and one more, followed by her loopy, swoopy signature scrawled just above the middle of the page.

> _and the fact that he’s got someone to nanny and fuss over_  
>  _keeps him going. We’ve made allies, too, strong ones. The_  
>  _vampires, like I said, and wizards. A bunch of other_  
>  _sects have joined us, too._
> 
> _I won’t bore you with the details, but I just want you_  
>  _to know that I’m as safe as I can be, down here. Please_  
>  _keep yourself safe, too? Don’t wallow. If I really am like_  
>  _you, then you’re just as prone to that as I am. I’ll come_  
>  _home as soon as I can._
> 
> _I love you._
> 
> _Phoebe_

“Damn it, Phoebe.” Victor cursed, and rubbed at his eyes with thumb and forefinger. He _wanted_ those details, after all. He wanted to know exactly who his daughter was trusting to have her back, and why, and who all she was fighting, and what they could do, and if there was _anything at all_ he could do to help protect her, even if it wasn’t very likely.

Rowan cleared his throat a little, and Victor looked up. “I would be willing to convey a reply, if you want to write one?” He offered, raising his eyebrows.

Victor was nodding even before he’d finished the question. “Yes. Thank you.” He agreed. He had so much to tell Phoebe, after all. He… probably wouldn’t mention the week he’d spent going to seances around the state, or the two weeks he’d spent at the bottom of a bottle, but he needed to demand details about this war Phoebe was apparently leading, and he needed to warn her that the police thought she had murdered her sisters in order to elope with her sister’s husband, or whatever ridiculous fantasy was their current leading story. He needed to tell her he loved her, he missed her, and of course he’d take care of himself. He would, now. He had to be whole and sane and at least somewhat respectable so that, once she _did_ come home, someone would be able to vouch for her, protect her, take care of her like he should have been doing for the last twenty-odd years and hadn’t been.

Looking down at the letter again, he carefully folded it, and then couldn’t bring himself to tuck it away in the envelope, so he just put both on the coffee table and stared at them for a long moment. Then he clapped his hands to his thighs, stood, and went to find paper and a pen.


End file.
